


Psi Delta Alpha Boys

by thejigsawtimess



Series: Psi Delta Alpha Boys Series [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Butt Plugs, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Flavored Lube, Food Sex, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Humor, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Pining!Cas, Public Sex, Rimming, Sexting, Vibrators, possessive!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 08:57:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 154,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2382500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejigsawtimess/pseuds/thejigsawtimess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Tuesdays and Thursdays every week, Castiel, a misfit freshman, waits outside his Physics lab to catch a glimpse of the senior Frat boys as they file out before his class. One Thursday, he notices a new face amongst the Letterman jackets. A crooked smile, a devious glint in two green eyes... Castiel is done for before he's even begun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

                                                                                       

Still only 1:05pm.

Castiel lets out a long sigh. There are only so many coffees he can purchase and consume at this student coffee bar before he looks and feels like a wired lunatic with a caffeine addiction. He's going to have to leave, which means he's going to turn up to class early again, and have to sit outside and wait in the hall... again. He hates Thursdays because of this stupid endless gap between lessons. Four hours. What's he supposed to do with all that in-between time? Well. Aside from the obvious that is.

Castiel knows what you're supposed to do with these gaps. The college hands them out generously because most people relish them, loving the chance to spend hours with their friends. Except Castiel doesn't have any friends.

It's not for lack of trying. During his first week he did his best to follow all the chirpy, comic-sans advice given to him on websites and in gaudily coloured leaflets. He pored over the flyers excitedly blaring 'FRESHERS' at him with an excessive amount of exclamation marks. He tried everything these products of misinformation told him would work - _'just relax!'_ , _'be yourself!'_ , _'start conversations!'_ \- and was as friendly as he could muster. He said hello to everyone that crossed his path, every person in his Halls and on his course, people wandering around campus, in the coffee shop, at the library... in hindsight, he may have gone a tad overboard. 

But then even the few that responded to Castiel's greetings became intolerable, the upkeep of the adolescent acquaintances becoming impossible to manage. These people would all want things from him that he couldn't give. They were so different from him, wanting to go out and socialise at every opportunity. They'd want to drink alcohol and spend all night in the frankly atrocious college 'bar' - and seeing as it only served alcohol to over-21's anyway, none of which the Freshmen were of course, Castiel couldn't fathom why. But they were relentless; they'd pound on his dormitory door, coax him into the communal kitchen for 'pre-drinking' with a round or ten of 'Never Have I Ever' or 'Would You Rather' - whichever was the most excruciating for all involved, so it seemed to Castiel. 

A few times, Castiel ventured out to the bar with these 'friends' he'd made. The college called their fine drinking establishment Purgatory - some kind of sick joke, Castiel thinks privately, because that's exactly what it's like in there. Packed, claustrophobic, stinking of beer-soaked wood and body odour, it truly reminds one of a place not belonging to this realm. A few times in those first few weeks Castiel had found himself standing in the midst of a gyrating crowd, wondering what the heck he was doing there and if this is truly what he needed to do in order to have a 'normal' college experience. 

One by one, over the course of an evening spent in Purgatory, Castiel's new 'friends' would approach him, wasted and grotesque to behold, begging him to come and dance, or to have a sneaky sip of the alcohol they'd snuck in in their purse to 'loosen him up'. Castiel might have chosen the latter option, if only to make the experience mildly more tolerable, except that the alcohol the others encouraged him to drink tended to be either cheap, undrinkable vodka or 'alcopop'. Castiel found it horrendous; it was cloyingly sweet and burned his throat with not even a lasting effect on his mental state. When he drinks, which he does on occasion, he prefers straight spirits, tequila being his favourite. He doesn't mind beer or (if he's feeling expensive) some wines.

Usually, at around half one in the morning, there would come a point where all of Castiel's new 'friends' began frantically shoving their tongues down each others' throats. It was at this point that Castiel usually left.

Being the apparent 'party killer' that he was, it didn't take long for people to turn from him. This general air of 'boring' that he gave off when he began saying he'd rather stay in on a Friday night and do some of his reading than set foot back in Purgatory  _ever again_  put people off pretty quickly. He found these Fresher's 'friendships' he'd made harder and harder to hang onto. 

Alongside this, there was the added problem of him always seeming to manage to say the wrong thing in any given situation. He increasingly found that he appeared standoffish and rude when he only meant to be straightforward and serious in conversation. People found him awkward and peculiar, lacking in knowledge of pop-culture and therefore difficult to hold a conversation with. Castiel never really thought it would matter so much that he's never read _Harry Potter_ or heard any of  _Taylor Swift_ 's music. He prefers classic novels and listens primarily to 80's soft rock as those are the books and records his mother owned back home.

He knows that when growing up, his brother purposefully sought out films, books and other media from this decade in order to seem more 'in the loop', but Castiel has never had any real desire to do this. He likes what he likes. Though perhaps Gabriel's intensive studying of pop culture - which mostly consisted of binge-watching _Breaking Bad_ , spending his free time completing every Xbox game under the sun and hours of sitting in front of a laptop screen with a leer on his face - throughout their youth prepared him better for college life than Castiel. 

So, it didn't take long for people to make up their minds. Soon enough everyone in Castiel's dorm, all the people in his Physics class - heck, seemingly everyone on campus had filed Castiel away in their brains under the category of 'weirdo social misfit who stares too much'. And that was it. Now Castiel goes to class alone, gets coffee alone, spends his nights in his room with his homework for company - which is a damn sight better than Purgatory, he admits - and unless something drastic happens to him, he's pretty sure that's the way it will stay. 

He doesn't feel too sorry for himself, though. After all, he got into college, he's studying Physics - his favourite subject, he's independent and free for the first time. His life is just beginning from here on out, stretching out ahead, filled with promises and opportunities. Plus, if he gets too lonely, there's always Gabriel. His older brother is a senior at this college, which is part of the reason Castiel chose to come here. He hasn't actually been to visit Gabe since the guy helped him move his stuff in on the first day, but he knows that he can. If things ever get too awful, he tells himself often, he can just head over to Gabriel's Fraternity and- hmm. On second thought, maybe not.

Honestly, Fraternities kinda scare the crap out of him. Gabriel can come to his room instead.

Reminiscing over, Castiel reluctantly packs away the books spread out across the coffee shop table and prepares to leave. He glances at his watch again: 1:12pm. Well, it's a little better than before at least. And really, it's not so bad waiting for this _particular_ class. He smiles to himself a little, blushing faintly as he thinks of the beautiful sight awaiting him as soon as the class before his ends.

The Psi Delta Alpha boys. 

It takes him no time at all to walk across campus to the Sciences Building. He feels a slight spattering of rain against his skin and turns his face skyward to see the silvery clouds rolling forth. It'll be pouring down soon, but that's okay; he doesn't really mind the rain. He passes the weird 'attraction' of the College on his way towards the steps - a square, eerily well-kept graveyard, right in the centre of campus. Like most people, Castiel thinks it's pretty morbid, but to be honest the sight of the graveyard on the campus tour he took last Fall enthralled him somewhat. There's some contractual obligation the college has, he remembers, and they're forbidden to build over the graves for 100 years. 

What would they even put there, anyway? Another bleak, garishly coloured building full of the same boring classrooms and computer lounges, no doubt. No, Castiel thinks, pausing for a moment to stare out across the rain-spattered graves, this is far better. 

Once inside the building, he heads upstairs, along the already familiar route to his Physics lab. He slumps down to the right of the door in his usual spot, back to the wall, in perfect position to stare unnoticed when the Frat boys pass him by. He can hear noises from inside the classroom - loud, raucous laughter and shouting - which will be the group of Psi Delta Alpha seniors themselves, forced to attend the class against their will, Castiel assumes. He knows that the kids here on sports scholarships have to do another subject to support it. The Psi Delta Alpha fraternity make up almost the entire college football team, so he guesses they're all being made to take a BioChem minor for extra credit.

Castiel blushes, checking himself and shaking his head. Even to himself he sounds like a stalker. He needs to stop combing through the college handbook to find this stuff out, it's just embarrassing. 

Another burst of laughter erupts from within the classroom, and Castiel turns his head to stare at the closed door. He's pretty sure they're all flunking the class. He should know, he's the one sitting outside it every week, listening to the unruly chatter of obnoxious voices, the constant laughter. Once there was smoke pouring out from under the door. Shaking his head with a rueful smile, Castiel digs his headphones out of his bag and plugs in, letting the familiar melody of The Smiths pour into his ears. 

* * *

Castiel is on a different Morrissey-fuelled plane of existence when the door to the lab finally swings open. Heart pounding, he scrabbles to his feet, yanking out his headphones in the process because this is the part he's been waiting for. He knows it's vaguely creepy to watch in rapture like this every week, but he can't help himself when it comes to these boys. If he could, he'd stop the indecent thoughts that swim into his mind every time those beautiful, idiotic Frat boys filter out of the lab. But now that he knows the view he can have if he just gets to class that little bit earlier... how could he give it up?

From his position, he gets to watch the parade of them swanning past him twice a week - big, roughened hands shoving and jostling one another, their teeth flashing as they laugh at lurid jokes. Blood red Letterman jackets squeezed over thick, muscled shoulders lend them confidence to swagger down the hall, their Psi Delta Alpha necklaces and tattoos winking at Castiel as they pass him, not seeing him for a moment.

He just likes to look at them. Who wouldn't?

Here they come, Castiel thinks, heart thudding rhythmically as the first couple bowl through the open door - a spiky haired brunette laughing cruelly as he grips his blonde, sharply cheekboned 'brother' in a tight headlock. They pass him, fighting playfully, their laughter echoing down the hall, and Castiel sighs as they go, biting his lip. Perhaps it's the build of these young men that makes him so crazy. Broad shoulders, six-packs, tapered waists... Or maybe it's the fact they wear their jeans halfway down their asses, Castiel thinks, still staring after the two that just passed him, admiring the visible waistline of their white 'Calvin Klein' boxer briefs, clinging to an exposed strip of golden skin.

He turns his gaze away reluctantly, back towards the door, and watches eagerly for the next ones. A big group of them hurtle out next, possibly all of them at once, Castiel thinks. They're all talking together, happy and excitable now that they're out of their mandatory class. One of them is sniggering as he holds a bunsen burner triumphantly above his head; a trophy.

Hold on, Castiel thinks, freezing in place as his heart skips a beat. There's a new one. One that definitely hasn't been here before. Castiel knows this for a fact, because there is no way in Hell he would have forgotten a face like this one. He has to be a senior like the others, Castiel reasons, even as his mind skids and stutters to a halt when the new boy steps closer to him on his way past. He can't be a new member of the Fraternity, it wouldn't make any sense - so why hasn't he been here before? Term started over a month ago. Castiel's body aches thinking of the countless times he could have been staring at this beautiful creature, if only he'd shown up to class.

This new guy smiles too, like the others, but his is slightly crooked - a smirk, as though he's perpetually on the precipice of mischief. His almond hair, carefully tousled and gelled, seems to gleam at Castiel, drawing him like a beacon, and that's before he even notices the guy's _eyes._ Brilliantly green and utterly intoxicating, they flash over to him for the millionth of a second, then glide right past. Castiel almost faints, he's sure. It takes all he has within him not to moan at the idea of even being in this guy's line of sight.

Half a minute later, when he finally regains control of himself, Castiel strains desperately to hear their conversation as they linger in the hall before dispersing, praying for information about this boy, something he can use to fuel what is rapidly becoming his most erotic fantasy.

"Man, I fuckin' hate that class." One of them says, but it's not _him_ , Castiel thinks in mild frustration. Instead, it's one of the black guys speaking, an intimidatingly attractive, heavily muscled guy with sharp, blue eyes that Castiel has heard the others call 'Walker'.

"Tell me 'bout it."

 _Oh_. There it is, that's him, he spoke, he's not a hallucination, Castiel thinks, utterly awestruck. Castiel had been unprepared for that voice - rich, deep and powerful, the twang of a southern accent doing nothing to absolve Castiel's growing urges. He wonders what it would sound like saying his name. Uh oh, bit of a mistake, he thinks regretfully, turning a little on the spot to hide the tightness in his pants.

"At least you decided to turn up this week, Winchester." A blonde, stubbled guy says, laughing; Castiel thinks this one is called Milton.

 _Winchester_. That's it, that's his name.

Castiel tucks it away in his mind greedily, repeating it over and over till it feels natural. He even whispers it quietly, testing it out on his tongue. It's a last name, sure, but it's more than enough. Then, with a sense of dreadful despair consuming his heart, Castiel is forced to watch the gorgeous man leave, following him with only his yearning eyes until he's far down the hall, turns into the stairwell and is gone.

* * *

That night, for the first time since he arrived at college, Castiel doesn't do his reading or his practice Physics questions that were set. Not that he has anything to work with anyway, the few notes he did manage to scribble down in class are undoubtedly nonsensical, and almost definitely have the word 'Winchester' in somewhere.

Instead, he gets back to his room, strips off his shirt and pants, gets on his bed and goes straight online to the college website. He knows what he's looking for, so it doesn't take him long. He finds the sports noticeboard page, clicking through all the various jock-heavy sports until he finds the proud, large section dedicated to football. He scrolls down until he finds it, a single photograph of the Official College Football Team. Sure enough, just as Castiel suspected, there's that boy in the midst of them all, grinning like he finds the whole concept of the photograph hilarious.

Castiel stares, biting his lip hard and memorising every detail of the small, grainy features on the boy's face for a good few minutes before scrolling down. There's a list of names at the bottom, and Castiel hunts eagerly for the name that's been ricocheting around his head ever since 1:55pm this afternoon.

There it is. Dean Winchester. _Dean_.

Castiel's finger caresses the imprint of the word on his screen. He flops back onto his pillow, eyes fluttering shut.

"Dean." He whispers into the silent air. God, it's perfect.

The name leaves his lips in a breathy cry a good few times over the course of the evening.

* * *

The following day is Friday, which is Castiel's free day. He has no classes, meant to be using this time to study. He usually sets up his laptop and books in his room or the library and stays there until closing, but today he just can't.

He has to see Dean again.

He's never felt anything like this before; something animalistic has awoken in him, something has set the blood singing and screaming through his veins. His dick feels heavy and full, twinging with arousal practically at all times, no matter how much he... 'relieves himself'. Dean's voice echoes through the core of his being, that one sentence Castiel heard him speak seemingly enough to have him a perpetual drooling mess. Dean's face flickers behind his closed eyelids, grinning and laughing in just the way Castiel saw.

Lying on his bed at 3pm, miserable and spent from the exertion of obsessing over this one boy he has seen only once, Castiel is sure he's going mad. Worse still, he can't get the thought out of his mind that there's only one possible cure - to see Dean Winchester again.

He thinks that maybe, if he can just  _see_ Dean one more time, prove to his over-active imagination that he is, in fact, just another Frat boy like any other, just maybe he can snap himself out of this. Because Dean can't really be the embodiment of Castiel's dream guy. He can't actually have ticked every box in Castiel's mind so that he goes insane over his attraction - he must have been imagining it, projecting his own desires onto the exciting new guy or something. He was over-stimulated on around ten coffees, after all. Nobody is  _that_ perfect. 

It's not a bad plan, he reasons, and it beats sitting here driving himself crazy over errant thoughts of the Dean's rose-pink lips, the cupid's bow stretching as he smiles-

"Ugh!" Castiel groans to himself, hating his runaway brain right now. He can't cope with this. It's painful getting hard again so quickly.

Right, he tells himself, swinging his legs off the bed and pulling on his nearest jeans. He'll have to go to the sports field, surely Dean will be there, practising. Unless he has Fridays off too of course, which Castiel has to admit is a possibility. The thought almost stops him going, in fact. But then he thinks about just sitting here when he could be watching as Dean sprints across an open field, the cold October wind settling a rouge into his cheeks, the exercise drawing his deep, heavy breaths. It's too much to bear. He knows he has to at least try.

It seems to take him mere seconds to walk across campus, and soon he's standing beside the sports field, wind whipping at him from all sides, flaring his trenchcoat behind him. The sport's field is a place Castiel has never actually visited before, and he scans the various pitches with fairly manic eyes, glossing over rugby, hockey, soccer. The college has a football stadium he knows, being very proud of its football team, but for some reason - more stalking from the college handbook - Castiel knows that all college sports are practiced on the field, and only the actual games are played in the arena.

Finally he spots them, the football team, recognising the sport by the signature 'huddling' that Castiel has never understood. He steps onto the grass nervously, eyes darting about for signs of stray balls that will come flying towards him, but luckily he manages to cross to the playing field unscathed. He stands some way back, hopefully unnoticed, peering into the midst of the players for a glimpse of the face that's been haunting him since yesterday, his eyes straining as the boys dart about. They're not wearing their helmets at least - that would certainly have made things more difficult. 

When at last Castiel spots him, he almost sinks to his knees. How could he have thought seeing Dean would make this situation any better? His picture last night on the college website, along with the mere memory of the barest glimpse outside a lab was enough to have him coming three times into his own hand; seeing Dean here, in the flesh, so close that Castiel can make out the sparse hairs clinging to his toned calves, the loose fit of his short, ruby coloured football kit, the sheen of perspiration gathered on his forehead and neck... it's something else entirely. 

Castiel bites his lip, hard enough to hurt, then buries his face in his hands. He has to get ahold of himself. This is fucking ridiculous.

Dean's going to notice if he starts getting stalked all over campus by a nerdy freshman who can't stop staring. Summoning every ounce of strength he can muster, Castiel steals one last glance, watching as Dean high fives a teammate before catching the football with one hand, laughing away like it's nothing. Then he forces himself to turn, to walk back across the field and keep going until he reaches safety, out of sight of Dean Winchester.

* * *

It seems like an eternity crawls by before Tuesday of the following week, the only time Castiel knows for sure he will see Dean again. He tells himself that even if seeking out Dean to stare at his gorgeous form is a no-go, there's nothing he can do about seeing Dean outside class. He waits there every week, after all. It's not like he's going to change his habits because he's developed a... crush.

It's been almost five days though, and the burning fire inside of Castiel has not subsided for a moment. He can't concentrate on anything no matter how hard he tries. The sure pump of Dean's legs across the football field replays in his mind so many times he swears he's he's hypnotised by it.

He practically sprints to class at 1pm. He has to wait an hour, but he'll be damned if it isn't worth every wasted second. Dean sidles out of the classroom last this time; Castiel barely even registers the rest of the Frat boys that pass. As soon as he's confirmed they're not Dean, he turns away from them, fixing his gaze back on that classroom door. He does notice Professor Crowley storming past though, muttering about 'imbeciles' not-completely under his breath, not saying where he's going or if he'll be back in time for Castiel's class. Not that it even matters, in the grand scheme of things, Castiel thinks idly, his attention focused on other things. Eventually, Dean exits, the sight of him making Castiel's breath hitch. Dean has his arm around Walker. Their faces are close, Dean whispering something in his ear around a grin - telling the other guy something secret.

Castiel surprises himself when he feels the enormous surge of jealousy slamming forward in his stomach upon seeing them walk out together like that, their bodies touching, so close they're practically kissing. Does Walker even realise how lucky he is? To touch Dean Winchester, even casually... God. Castiel struggles to think of things he wouldn't do to have that, which is worrying. Suddenly, Walker laughs uproariously at whatever Dean just said, breaking Castiel out of his thoughts, making him straighten - he hadn't realised he was glaring. Dean just grins back at him, satisfied that whatever he said has hit home. He unwinds his arm from Walker's shoulders. It only makes Castiel feel a little better.

"Hold up Walker, I got a call." Dean says suddenly, a small crease forming between his brows as he reaches into his jeans pocket for a cell. "Go ahead, I'll catch you guys back at the house."

"Alright, Dean-o."

"Hey!" Dean shouts unexpectedly, pointing at Gordon, making the other guy spin on his heel in surprise. Castiel stares, transfixed at the sudden change in atmosphere. Dean's voice has dropped an octave, which is doing downright indecent things to Castiel, and Walker looks almost... scared. What's going on? "What'd you call me?"

There's a slight smirk coating Dean's expression as Walker bows his head and holds a hand up in apology. "Sorry... Alpha."

Dean nods, still smirking, but satisfied now, and watches as a now-grumbling Walker turns and leaves.

Oh, Holy shit, Castiel thinks, his stomach dropping, his heart beginning to pound incessantly. This is bad news. Castiel hasn't just gone and developed a crush on some random Frat boy, no, nothing could ever be that simple. Instead, he's decided to start madly obsessing over the goddamn _Alpha_ of Psi Delta Alpha. The President, the top dog, the one with all the power, the one everyone respects, the one everyone is  _terrified_ of.

The thought of it terrifies him too, of course it does. What if Dean ever found out? Castiel would be entirely at his mercy, unable to defend himself in the slightest. He'd have to obey Dean's every sadistic command, or else Dean could order an _entire_ _Fraternity_ to rain down their fury on his head. And fuck, Castiel isn't even going to try and pretend he's not hard right now at the thought.

Then he realises something. Dean is still here.

Castiel's mind hurtles back to this earthly plane at lightning speed, and he tries hard not to breathe, leaning against the wall as if he could melt into it if he tried. Once Walker is out of sight, Dean looks down at the phone in his hand, his thumb swiping briefly at the screen before he locks it and plunges it straight back into his jeans pocket.

What the heck? Castiel stares on in silent confusion. Didn't Dean just say he was going to answer that? 

Before Castiel can make any kind of sense of the situation, Dean is turning on his heel. Time slows to a crawl, the air crackles as though a storm is about to hit, and then those blinding, chartreuse eyes are pinning Castiel in place. He lets out the smallest of squeaks. Dean is looking at him. Dean can see him. Around half a minute goes by; Castiel is completely frozen. He couldn't move a muscle if he tried, he's sure of it. Dean is just... just staring. God, this must be what people mean when they say Castiel stares too much, they're right, it's more than unnerving, it's terrifying.

Castiel imagines Dean using those sharp, gemstone-clear irises to burrow straight through his skull, poke around in his brain to discover every damn shameful thing he has done to the image of him over the last few days.

He feels a heavy blush rising in his cheeks, powerless to stop it, and turns his face from Dean, ashamed. In a flash, Dean moves forward, stopping right in front of him, a hand pressing against the wall to the right of Castiel's head, practically pinning him there for real this time. Oh God... he's so close Castiel can _smell_ him - pine, a faint scent of liquor and something sharp, like rainwater or newly fired metal. He shudders as he breathes it in, and Dean smiles, capturing his eyes again, looking down into them; a vulture sizing up its prey.

"Professor Crowley's stepped out for a coffee. He'll be back for your class in a little while." Dean says, his voice low and quiet, his breath ghosting over Castiel's helplessly drawn in face. If he just leaned up a little, he'd be able to press his mouth to... oh, fuck. His head spins wildly; the thought alone is too much to handle. Wait, Dean is speaking. What is he saying? Professor Crowley's getting coffee. Why does that matter? "So..." Dean continues, taking his time over the wording, seeming to relish this moment for a reason Castiel can't fathom. Is he about to be beaten up by the boy of his dreams because of the ancient nerd/jock hierarchy? Moreover, would Castiel even care if it meant Dean would touch him? "...get in the classroom."

Castiel blinks dumbly. Huh? His eyes dart to the open door of the lab in question, wondering if there's some other meaning to Dean's words. Why does he need to go in there? He hesitates. He shouldn't - the labs are out of bounds without a Professor or Technician. He turns back to meet Dean's eyes, wondering what the heck he should say, if he can even form words.

Seeing Castiel's hesitation, Dean's face immediately changes. Castiel watches, unbelievably turned on but utterly petrified as Dean's expression hardens into the same stern, 'don't-fuck-with-me' one that had fallen over his face when called out Walker. Dean slams his hand into the wall above Castiel's shoulder, making him jump, and leans forwards, bringing their faces even closer together. When he speaks, his voice is rough and gravel-deep. There's a look in his eyes that tells Castiel the guy is probably used to getting his way. "I said get in the classroom, freshman."

Well, Castiel is certainly not in a position to 'take Dean down a peg', not that he has any desire to do so. He doesn't allow himself to question it this time, he just scrabbles for his bag on the floor without looking away from Dean's eyes, but Dean grabs it for him, pushing him - oh sweet Lord, physical contact - towards the door impatiently. Once they're both inside, Castiel turns slowly to look back at him, entirely certain he's about to crumble to pieces, to explode, _something._

He's never felt so alive, disobeying the rules like this, being here with Dean, scared out of his mind and loving every damn second. He can feel his every nerve ending, like they're all on fire, scorching him. When he catches sight of Dean again, the senior is shutting and locking the door behind them. The hardened expression from just moments before has disappeared, and his omnipresent smirk has returned. There's something in his eyes though, a glint, as though something is lurking within him, seconds from breaking free.

Castiel is so hard from the intensity of this situation it scares him; Dean has barely done or said anything, it's just his proximity that's making Castiel so crazy. The rain thunders against the windows of the lab, just as Castiel predicted, the dark, gloomy skies draping the room in shadow, making everything that much more wild.

"So." Dean says softly, his face unreadable as he steps slowly forwards. Castiel backs up, stumbling a little until his back hits one of the desks, purely because he thinks he might fall if he doesn't have something to support him. "Look at you."

Castiel gulps, very audibly as it turns out. Dean chuckles at the sound.

"What's the matter? You scared? Nervous maybe?" Castiel doesn't answer, he just follows Dean's movements with frantic eyes. "I guess you have a right to be. Sorry I got a little angry out there. I'm just used to Frat life. The only freshmen I'm ever around are the Pledges and... well, I'm sure you're aware we treat them like shit."

Castiel forces himself to take some deep, calming breaths. He has to speak, he'll never forgive himself if he doesn't. "Wh- What do you want, Dean?"

Castiel screws his eyes shut as soon as he says it, cursing himself for being so fucking stupid. His mind is a mess right now, but he just gave the whole damn game away. Calling Dean by his name? That's a rookie mistake - now Dean's going to be thoroughly weirded out, angry maybe, suspect Castiel of spying on him. When Castiel dares to reopen his eyes, he's shocked to see a smile on Dean's lips, a slightly cruel smile, as though he's cornered his kill.

"You brainy types. Always do your research, huh?" Dean asks, amusement in his voice, but it has an edge. "Even about the people you think about boning."

Castiel flushes a deep red, from his neck to his cheeks, but his erection regretfully stays firmly in place. "I-I don't know what you're-"

"Aw come on, don't play with me." Dean cuts in before Cas can stammer out his denial. "I saw you. I saw you watchin' me play football on Friday. Was wonderin' who you were." Shit, Cas thinks. Dean saw that? The older boy takes two steps towards him then, effectively closing the distance between them. "Remember thinkin' you were awful cute." Castiel stares at Dean, utterly dumbstruck. Cute? "So. Here's my proposition, uh- you got a name?" Dean asks.

"C-C-Cas-Cas-" Dean places a hand over his mouth, silencing him. He's still grinning, loving every second of this. Castiel's eyes flutter as he feels the skin of Dean's palm cover his lips.

"Cas'll do, angel. Alright, here's my proposition, Cas: I wanna take you to dinner tonight." Dean says simply, and Castiel's eyes widen. "I know a cool place. We can grab some food, some beers, and if you wanna continue your creepy-ass starin' that is a-okay." Dean's grin suddenly gets wider, eyes sparkling, and his gaze flicks down where Castiel's lips would be, if his hand weren't covering them. "If you're awful good, I might even let you kiss me, Cas. Would you like that?"

Castiel couldn't have stopped the bitten off noise that escapes from behind Dean's hand if he tried. Fuck, did Dean really just say that? He focuses on Dean's wide, full pink lips, trying to imagine what it would be like to taste them. God. Unimaginable.

"Okay, sounds like that's a plan then." Dean chuckles. "But here's my condition, Cas, you ready?" Castiel nods frantically, not knowing what's become of himself anymore. He's never lost control like this, not with anything. Now he's ready to sell his fucking soul to this guy for a goddamned kiss - this is insane! "Alright then. My condition is that you gotta do whatever I ask. Now now, don't worry, doll face." Dean reassures him when Cas's eyes grow wide and frightened. "I know you're not pledgin' anyone- I'm not gonna ask you to do or say anything you won't enjoy. But just in case, I'll give you a special word you can say if things get too..." Dean's hand is suddenly upon him, the ghost of a palm stroking lightly over Castiel's crotch, pressing gently against his erection. Cas cries out, his eyes watering a little. "...intense for you."

Dean grins at Castiel's helpless, no-doubt wanton expression, chuckling a little as Cas pushes his hips forward to meet Dean's hand. "Now, now. Settle down, gorgeous." Dean removes his hand, and Castiel, remembering Dean's condition, reluctantly but obediently moves his hips back to meet the desk. "Your safe word is 'Croatoan', alright? You say that word and I'll know you're not enjoyin' yourself and I'll stop. You got that, Cas? Croatoan. Let me hear you say it Cas so I know you got it."

Dean removes his hand from Cas's mouth and waits expectantly. In the seconds that follow, Castiel tries to begin the arduous, impossible process of reorientating his mind. Every thought in his brain his swimming around at 100mph; he struggles to make sense of Dean's words. All he can think about is that intoxicating scent pouring off of Dean's skin, the flash of his green eyes in the dark, the feel of Dean's fingers against the bump of his hardness. He takes a breath, calming himself, and sorts through what Dean just said.

"Croatoan." He croaks out eventually, forcing the word from his lips because it's what Dean asked of him, and more than anything, he just wants to do what Dean wants. Dean smiles at him.

"Good. I'll meet you at the East Gate at 7. Don't even try being late." Castiel realises a couple of seconds too late that these are Dean's parting words. He's about to wail in protest, and then, so casually cruel, Dean leans in and kisses him.

It's so brief he could have dreamt it, nothing more than a touch of mouths, but it's enough to send Castiel freewheeling into a no-man's land of Dean, Dean, Dean.

When he touches back down to earth, it's because a rain-soaked Professor Crowley has angrily flung open the door, taken in Castiel standing there unsupervised, entranced and speechless, and started yelling. 

Castiel looks around dazedly, but Dean is nowhere to be seen. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First date. Like ever. Like Castiel's never done anything remotely like this and oh god what is he doing- breathe. Oh god.

A mess. That's the only way Castiel can describe his current state. Professor Crowley takes one look at Castiel's rumpled, utterly dishevelled appearance, along with the bemused, terrified look in his eyes, and promptly sends him home. The Professor seems mildly disgusted by Castiel's lack of preparedness, and tells Castiel to 'sort himself out' before returning to class again. 

Castiel doesn't need telling twice. As soon as Crowley's words filter through his brain, he scarpers from the lab, pushing past his bewildered classmates lined up in the hallway outside. He runs straight through the automatic doors of the Sciences building, doesn't even bother to gaze out across the sprawling graveyard in front of him like always, too intent on getting across campus, back to the safety of his room. He doesn't realise it's raining until he's flung his bag and jacket onto his floor, goes to splash his face with cold water, and catches sight of his sodden reflection in his bathroom mirror. 

Castiel stares, dumbfounded, at himself. He peers into the same, denim-blue eyes he has for his whole life, straining with all his might to see something, anything that might interest Dean Fucking Winchester. He fails in his task; his eyes remain ordinary, his lips are as pale and chapped as ever, his black hair is starting to curl at the fringe, protesting against the damp. There is nothing remotely interesting about him that Castiel can see, he's the same as ever: boring, nondescript, achingly ordinary.

And yet Dean Winchester had apparently found him worthy enough to touch, worthy enough to taste, to reduce to a quivering mess in a deserted classroom. Dean Winchester had apparently found something about Castiel Novak so alluring that he'd asked him out. On a _date_.

Briefly, Castiel wonders if he imagined it. If he closes his eyes, he can still feel Dean's hand upon him, ghosting over the front of his pants. Surely he couldn't have imagined that. He dredges up the image of Dean's grinning face, so close to his, his spearmint breath whispering things that Castiel never dreamed he'd get to hear falling first hand from the lips of someone this utterly flawless. No, he definitely wasn't imagining that, either. Eyes still closed, Castiel moves his own hand to the front of his pants, trying to mirror Dean's actions from before. His own palm is a poor replica of Dean's, but it works well enough.

Not half an hour ago, Dean's hand - his big, firm, glorious hand - was resting over the same spot. Castiel is still hard, even now, despite the rain, the shock of Crowley's untimely appearance, everything. 

He presses his hand down a little, gasping as the sparks, leftover from the surge of adrenaline Dean's touch brought forth in him, dance along his veins. It doesn't take much to imagine it's Dean, now. The memory is so fresh, and Castiel has already had a fair few practices at conjuring up a fantasy-Dean to fuel his desires. He can Dean so clearly if he concentrates, can practically still smell the delicious piney scent radiating off him in that dark lab. He rubs against his groin a little harder, a little faster, picturing Dean doing just this, whispering filthy promises into his ear, his green eyes flashing in the lightning that strikes outside. Castiel's orgasm punches through him with abrupt force, leaving him clasping at the sink below the mirror, gasping. 

This is some dangerous voodoo, he thinks a minute or so later, cold with the aftershocks and the realisation of how little it took to bring himself to climax just then. Practically just thinking Dean's name makes him hard, no wonder he almost broke apart in that lab, with Dean touching him, caressing him, _kissing_ him for Christ's sake. He groans a little, remembering the feel of Dean's fleeting lips.

He stares at himself again in the mirror. He still doesn't understand it. How can Dean, the Alpha of a Frat house, a College Senior Football Jock, possibly find anything remotely attractive about nerdy, virgin Castiel, who - as Dean well knows - has nothing better to do than wait outside his Physics lab an hour early twice a week in order to stare at him? Oh, and track Dean down on the sports field on his days off. 

Dean asked him on a date. An actual date, with food and maybe alcohol and potential kissing. He gave a time and a place, like they do in the films Castiel has seen, and the books he's read. It's an ludicrous concept to even begin to process, and the date is tonight! 

He blinks at his worn-out reflection, already feeling that his capacity for all this college-lark has been drained for today. He'd better perk up though, he thinks, stomach fluctuating wildly when he realises that he's got to see Dean again in a few hours time.

This, right here, is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and Castiel needs to be on his A-game. 

With that thought motivating, along with the echo of Dean's tantalising suggestion that he might let Cas kiss him later, he straightens up and begins stripping off his wet clothes. He turns and steps into the shower, wobbling slightly from the intensity of his emotional state. His clothes litter the bathroom floor, crumpled and forgotten. He leaves the bathroom door unlocked.

What has this boy done to him?

* * *

It gets to 6:32pm and Castiel simply cannot stand waiting for a moment longer. Waiting that long had been torture enough. He tried to look at books, to browse the Internet, to read up on his seminar notes for his Religious Studies minor, but it was pointless to try and distract himself. There was one thing on his mind, filling it totally, refusing to budge no matter how much he paced his room, how many glasses of water he drank in order to make himself pee (just for something to pass the time). Eventually he'd ended up just sitting in his office chair staring at the clock on his desk, one leg shaking with anticipation.

At 6:32 he gets up to go, knowing that if he doesn't leave right then, he'll drive himself insane. He takes one final glance at himself in the bathroom mirror before exiting his room, and grimaces a little. He has no idea if he's chosen the right outfit. He's donned a slightly crumpled white shirt, with black pants and a navy sweater. His mother once said that the sweater made him look sophisticated.

He's having his doubts about the validity of that statement right now.

He wonders what Dean will be wearing, which sends another wave of anxiety and disbelief washing over him. This is all so mad, he thinks, slipping his shoes on. Dean's probably forgotten all about this. Or maybe this is all a big, cruel joke on Castiel? It's probably just as likely to be a joke as it is likely to be a real date, to be honest. 

Maybe Dean has a notoriety for doing this sort of thing. Maybe he's renowned for his ability to seduce the Freshmen with a few carefully constructed sentences, the chance of a kiss and a brief grope in a dark room. Maybe he gets these unlucky, desperate Freshmen to agree to a date with him, then humiliates them in front of the whole college by not turning up, thereby proving his sexual prowess and unbeatable power over the whole student body. 

Castiel chews his lip, doing up his laces. His mind is good at creating these convincing hypothetical scenarios in order to make everything that little bit scarier. 

He straightens in his chair, having convinced himself totally by this point that the whole thing is a cruel prank, that Dean won't turn up at all. That he'll be waiting at the East Gate in the rain all night for this guy. 

...But what if he _does_ turn up?

The counter-argument is just a small, timid voice in his mind, but it's enough. 

Castiel springs from his seat, grabbing his coat, wallet, keys, reading glasses and phone. If he doesn't go, if he lets his own annoyingly pessimistic brain talk himself out of this one-time, dream-come-true scenario, then he'll never forgive himself. Potential to be the butt of a joke or not, Castiel has to know for sure. Because the slim, ridiculously unlikely, one percent chance that this all might be for real is more than enough to follow through with the whole charade. So, with a knot in his stomach so large that Castiel swears anything he eats will head straight back up his oesophagus, he leaves his room, locking it firmly behind him. 

* * *

It's still raining, but Castiel had the common sense to bring his umbrella, so he stands in a carefully picked position at one side of the East Gate, under a lampost so he can't be missed. 

He starts to hum to himself quietly in a vain attempt to keep the nerves at bay, Morrissey's familiar lyrics echoing through his mind, settling into the grooves that their significance have imprinted into Castiel's mind. Honestly though, they're not doing a lot to help with Castiel's pessimistic attitude. The rain is relentless, even as the minutes tick by, and it brings with it a sharp chill, the kind that whips straight through Castiel with every gust of wind. 

No, Castiel thinks, sighing to himself, there's just no way Dean is going to be leaving the comfort of his Frat house tonight. Not for the sake of a joke-date with a pathetic, geeky Freshman he met a few hours ago. He wonders if should just give up now, call the whole thing quits before he develops pneumonia.

He checks his watch. 7pm. 

Okay, he'll wait until ten past. Just to be totally, completely sure. Because seriously, how often does this kind of thing happen to people like him? For the sake of all the other weirdo misfits in the world, Castiel has to try. Dean is the hottest guy Castiel has ever seen in his life. It's practically a miracle that Dean even glanced at him, let alone asked him to dinner. He damn well needs to wait this out. 

"...and if a double decker bus, crashes into us..." Castiel mutters under his breath, an attempt at distraction. "...to die by your side is such a Heavenly way to die..."

His mind is far away, lost in the depths of Morrissey's melancholic declaration of desire, when he realises he can feel eyes on him. 

He looks to and fro, searching through haze of rain for who it is. A car drives through the gate, its headlights blinding Castiel for a moment, and once it's passed by, Castiel sees him. Leant on the other side of the gate, across from him, is Dean Winchester, staring straight at him, the glint of his green eyes visible even in the darkness from this far away. He's dressed similarly to how he was earlier, but Castiel can see that he's changed his shirt. There's plaid peeking out from beneath that thick Letterman. He's sure that wasn't there before, he would have noticed. 

The incredibly exciting thought that Dean might have changed his outfit for the date occurs to him, but Castiel waves the idea away quickly. That's absurd, he thinks, Dean probably just got wet from the weather. Why would he bother changing for something as trivial to him as this?

Castiel's heart is pounding by this point, and the umbrella shakes in his hand. He can't believe Dean actually showed up, but there he is, standing right where he said he'd be - at the East Gate at 7pm, presumably in order to do as he said and take Castiel on a date. He feels at a loss for how to proceed, now. Dean is steadfastly not moving for some reason, seeming to be content to just watch him, a contemplative look on his face. If he were close enough to see properly, Castiel might even say that there was the hint of a smile on Dean's lips. 

He wonders if Dean is waiting for him to come over, and dithers for a moment. He should just go to him, right? That's why Dean is here, surely. That's what he's waiting for. But what if that's the wrong thing to do? Castiel doesn't know date-etiquette! He doesn't know Dean-etiquette for that matter. He dithers some more, fidgeting on the spot.

He wishes Dean would just tell him what he wants, Castiel thinks desperately, feeling like a fool. Rain smatters across his umbrella, its rhythm matching the pace of Castiel's heartbeat. 

Then, Dean signals to him. He jerks his head just once, but Castiel instantly knows that Dean is beckoning him. He almost sighs with relief, and jogs over to him, over the road that splits them, checking both ways of course - just to be safe. It'd be so annoying if he got hit by a car in his haste to obey Dean's wishes.

As he gets closer, Castiel slows, his breath hitching, blinking rapidly. His umbrella slips a little, but he catches hold. Shit, Castiel thinks, his shoulders sagging as he takes Dean in, he's so gorgeous. 

Dean Winchester is not the type of guy to carry an umbrella around on his person, so he's getting pretty wet, but he doesn't seem to notice or care. The raindrops seem to caress him, make him even more beautiful somehow, as though they were sentient, and knew the importance of the person that had broken their fall. They smatter his defined cheekbones, paint his glaringly red jacket with pinpricks of crimson. They drip over his lips pronounced lips, and Castiel watches helplessly as his pink tongue darts out, swiping them away. 

"You were early." Dean comments, his tone approving. 

Castiel nods unsurely, his mouth suddenly dry. Dean nods too, and quirks a very slight smile that doesn't seem to be aimed at Castiel, or anyone in particular. Dean watches him then, eyes slightly hooded, showing no intention of moving from the East Gate any time soon. Castiel knows he needs to say something. Anything. Dean's clearly wondering if he's made a huge mistake, if he's asked out a selectively mute freak who can't even manage a 'hello'.  

"You're getting wet." Castiel blurts, and then looks skyward, cursing his own mouth silently. 

Dean raises his eyebrows, then smiles, looking amused. He looks down at himself, then back at Cas. "So I am. Missed that."

Cas can feel the blush rising in his cheeks, and comforts himself in the knowledge that in this darkness, Dean probably can't see. "I meant, um, did you want... you could come under, um..."

Dean's eyebrows raise a little higher then, waiting for Cas to spit it out. His smile stays firmly in place, which has got to be a good sign, right? 

Instead of letting his idiotic mouth try and form any more broken sentences, Castiel opts for charades in order to get his message across. He holds out his umbrella in the most inviting way he can manage, stepping to the side a little, a clear invitation. 

Dean processes the gesture with surprise on his face, then chuckles. "You're a cute kid."

He turns away then, leaving Castiel standing like a fool again, one arm outstretched to provide shelter for a boy who clearly would rather be seen dead than under Castiel Novak's blue stripy umbrella. 

"C'mon, lets get goin'." Dean says in an authoritative tone, and Castiel obediently moves the umbrella back over his head, following after Dean as he begins walking. 

 

This date is five minutes in and he's already reeling. God, how the heck is he going to get through this? 

* * *

The place Dean takes him to is called The Roadhouse. It's a wood-panelled, slightly worn looking building, with a row of motorbikes parked outside, indicating the sort of custom it gets. Big windows pour out warm, yellow light, spilling over the cars parked outside, making the rain glimmer. Cas can see through the windows that the place is filled with students, laughing and gathered around tiny tables, crammed into booths, all drinking and merry.

He wonders what it is about this place that draws them, whether its the proximity to campus, or something more. Dean walks up to the big double doors with a confident swagger, and Castiel, after struggling for a moment with closing his umbrella, follows behind him. Dean pushes open the doors and strides into the place like he owns it, the loud, lively atmosphere engulfing Castiel at once, but not seeming to phase him. He makes his way through the maze of tables, manoeuvring past the gaggles of teenagers that hold up their hands for high fives, calling his name excitedly, happy to see him. Castiel is awestruck by the attention Dean receives, and doesn't miss the admiration and often desire in lots of their eyes.

How is he on a date with this boy? How on earth did that happen? 

Dean doesn't turn back to look at Cas, and nobody really seems to even notice him trailing meekly behind Dean. He doesn't particularly care; he's a nobody, he wouldn't have expected anyone to pay him any attention, nobody ever does. A couple of kids eye him a little strangely when they realise he's here with Dean, curiosity and a touch of disbelief colouring their expressions. Castiel tries not to let it bother him, focusing on staying hot on Dean's heels, letting himself be led through the restaurant to a line of booths in the back.  

It's clear Dean has a regular table here; a few folks are eyeing it up, but immediately step aside when they notice Dean coming over. They apologise and he claps them all on the shoulder, flashing a dazzling grin. It's like something out of a film, Castiel thinks in awe, watching as Dean slides in to the booth, and then realises he's probably supposed to slide in too. 

Moving with haste, Castiel places his damp umbrella against the outside of the booth, shrugs out of his coat and smooths his weather-tousled hair as best he can. He throws the coat into the booth on the empty seat, then hesitates for a moment before removing his damp jumper and throwing that on top. Then, he clambers in after it, opposite Dean. Dean watches all of this with an amused look on his face.

Once they're in the booth together, the hubbub of the restaurant seems far away. It's just him and Dean, alone, like before in the lab. Castiel can't help the blush that spreads across his cheeks. He looks down at his napkin on the table, not sure what to do. 

"I'm not gonna bite, Cas." 

His voice is low and husky, with a slight Southern drawl. Goosebumps ripple up both of Cas's forearms, and he rubs them with his hands, trying to make them disappear. God, this is impossible. He's going to be a silent, nervous wreck for the entire evening at this rate, Dean will never want to talk to him again.

He forces himself to look up, to meet Dean's gaze head on. He stops breathing for a moment, seeing how close Dean is; Castiel can make out a soft smattering of freckles sprayed across his cheekbones. It's intoxicating to look at him; Dean is making him feel drunk, he feels that at any moment he could slither off this bench to the floor, end up a puddle of desire at Dean's feet. That'd make a great first impression. 

"Sorry," Castiel makes himself say, forcing the words out, "I'm just a little... um-"

"Nervous?" Dean interrupts. His smile is crooked, his eyes amused. That smile is for him, Castiel thinks. Christ. 

"Yeah." Cas admits. "I guess I don't really get it." He continues, and Dean's brow furrows. Oh, great, he's not making a lick of sense. He tries again. "I mean, I don't get why- well. Because you're, y'know, _you,_ and I'm just... me. So why... would you, um...?"

Cas trails off, amazed with himself for being able to be that incoherent. He thinks about just getting up, quietly putting on his jumper and coat, gathering his umbrella and leaving. 

"You mean, why did I ask you out?" Dean translates, as if he's fluent in babbling idiot. 

Castiel stares, dumbstruck, then nods. 

Dean chuckles. "I dunno, Cas. I thought you were cute." Dean grins at him, and Castiel feels his heart begin to palpitate. Cute?! "I mean, I never go to Crowley's class. Like, ever. It's a crock of shit, and the dude's a grade-A dick as I'm sure you know." Dean says, chuckling, and Castiel quirks a smile because, yes, while he may not have phrased it that way, he is aware of Crowley's... unpleasant personality. "But a couple o'times I waited around by the stairwell to catch the others as they came out so we could head back to the Frat house together. And I'd see you waitin' there outside the lab. Plugged into those damn headphones, gone to the world. It was sweet." Dean laughs to himself, then a little more when Cas blushes. "Then o'course, my brothers'd stroll out."

Oh no, Cas thinks, the blood draining from his face so fast it makes him a little dizzy. Crap, crap, crap, abort-

"I saw how you looked at 'em." Dean says in a slightly quieter voice, leaning in a little and winking. Castiel feels his insides liquefying. This is too much, Dean _saw_ him, knows how much of a freak he is- "The look on your face as they passed you." Dean grins at him, and lets out a short whistle. "Now that was hot. I liked seein' how flustered you got." 

Castiel closes his eyes in humiliation. Maybe the real reason Dean brought him here was to call him out on his pathetic, downright stalkerish behaviour. As Alpha of the Frat boys that Castiel pines after on a bi-weekly basis, it falls to him to tell Cas to back the hell off.

God, how hideously shameful. Castiel buries his face in his hands. 

To his shock, Dean's hands come up to close over his, pulling them gently away from his eyes. Castiel stares at him, dumbstruck and terrified. Dean's hands stay lightly atop his, the feel of them burning his skin. 

"So I got to thinkin'," Dean continues, as if he's not slowly and methodically killing Castiel with his touch, his voice, his gaze, everything. "I'm not havin' this gorgeous kid salivatin' over my brothers and not me." He chuckles. "I wanna be the one he's fantasising about. I wanna get that look outta him. So, for the like the fifth time ever, I went to class. And fuck, it _worked._ " Dean laughs harder, leaning closer to Castiel, his voice dropping to a level that makes Castiel's pants tighten. "It worked better than I could've hoped. The way you looked at me, Cas..."

Castiel suppresses a groan, remembering his reaction to seeing Dean for the first time. He even remembers Dean meeting his eyes momentarily. Apparently, Dean remembers this too. God, he thinks, this probably can't get any worse.

"I guess you couldn't get me outta your mind, huh?" Dean is saying, though Cas can barely focus on the words anymore. Dean is so close, his voice so tantalising, and he's so filled with humiliation, hearing what Dean knows. "When I saw you watchin' me practise on Friday I nearly went crazy. Can't believe you did that. You must really like me, huh?"

Dean's really close to him now, leant forwards on his elbows across the table. One of his fingers traces the knuckles on top of Castiel's left hand. It's making Castiel's breaths short and stuttery. He feels naked, like Dean can see every inch of him, knows the darkest, most intimate secrets buried in his mind. Things he would never tell anyone. Dean grins, flashing his perfect teeth, his eyes glinting. He feels the brush of Dean's knee against his under the table and jumps.

"So what is it Cas, hm?" Dean asks, catching his lower lip between his teeth for one glorious second. "Am I just your type?"

Castiel's eyes flutter, his cheeks burning so much that he worries they may catch flame. How on earth can he be expected to process all of this? Dean knows so much about him, knows how much he must crave even being near Dean. There's no point in trying to hide it now, no point in trying to play it cool, not that Castiel would have succeeded in that department anyway. 

He wonders how on earth he can answer Dean's question, though. Whether he can even formulate words right now.

Luckily, at that moment, a girl approaches the table, and Dean leans back in his seat, his hand sliding off of Cas's. Cas misses it the moment it's gone. He looks up at the girl in bewilderment, momentarily having almost forgotten that anyone else existed apart from he and Dean, alone in this solitary booth. She's pretty, the girl, blonde and petite, though her expression is tough; Castiel sure wouldn't like to cross her. He belatedly notices the red apron she's got tied around her hips, and the menus clasped in her pale, delicate hands. A moment ticks by, where she stares at Dean, and then she smiles, ruefully. She shakes her head so that her ponytail swishes to and fro.

"Well. Would you look at this." She says. "Dean Winchester, at his regular table. Was startin' to think I wouldn't see you here ever again."

Dean props his elbow up on the back of the seat behind him, giving the girl a sly grin. 

"Hey, Jo." 

She rolls her eyes at him. "Don't you 'hey Jo' me. Where the Hell have you been? I never friggin' see you anymore!"

Dean waves her accusations away. "I've been busy. Coach is grindin' us to the bone."

"Uh huh." Jo says, hand on one hip, sounding unconvinced.

"Hey, cut me some slack." Dean says, still grinning away. "It ain't Junior year anymore, y'know? Can't just hang round here pleadin' with you and your Mom to serve me." 

"Pfft. You've never pleaded anyone in your goddamned life, Winchester." Jo argues, batting him on the shoulder with one of the menus. "Mom has a soft spot for you and you know it. I don't think she ever refused you a single drink."

"Well, she's a big softie underneath the front she puts up." Dean says, winking at Jo. Castiel feels a curl of jealousy sprouting in his stomach. "You know that."

"Uh huh." Jo says again, eyebrows raised. "Well, I'm not gonna save your ass from the hiding it'll get when she sees you in here after so long."

"Aw, I can handle her. Harvelle women are feisty, but tameable." Dean winks again, and this time Jo blushes very slightly. 

Castiel wonders what's not being said. 

"Mmhmm." Jo replies, sounding unconvinced. Her eyes slide to Cas for the first time. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Cas." Dean says, in a somewhat dismissive tone.  

Jo doesn't seem to particularly care about the information anyway, and holds out the menus. "Well, here you go boys. Can I get you some drinks?"

"We'll have two beers and two shots of tequila please, ma'am." Dean says before Cas can even consider answering. Jo rolls her eyes but nods and sashays away. 

Castiel stares at him, swallowing. "You get served here?"

Dean smirks at him. "It's all about turnin' on the charm, Cas. Besides, Ellen's a classic mother figure. I just gotta play into that. Then she's putty in my hands. Tough, angry putty, mind you." Castiel listens in rapture, marvelling at how Dean sees and navigates the world. Things must be so much easier if you're attractive and popular and charming. "And anyway, I'm nearly twenty-one so pretty soon it won't even matter." 

Castiel ducks his head, having forgotten that snippet of information. Dean's a _senior_. Castiel's on a date with a guy at least two years older than he is. Gabriel's age.

Jo brings their drinks over then, exchanging a little more banter with Dean as she unloads them from the tray. Castiel realises that they're basically flirting, and the jealousy in his gut grows in size. When she leaves again, Castiel is glad, though he hates himself for it.

Dean's attention focuses back on him, and he sucks in a breath.

"To you, Cas." Dean says, holding his tequila shot high in the air.

Castiel's eyes widen at the toast, but he tries his hardest not to let it show. He's competing for Dean's attention with dainty, pretty little blondes like Jo, he's got to remember that. He needs to behave in a more alluring manner, needs to keep Dean's focus, needs to make this date worth his while. Luckily, he loves tequila, so he knocks his own shot back easily. He can tell Dean is a little impressed. It's a small win, but he'll take it.

They order their food from Jo, Dean ordering him a burger before he even looks at the menu. He wonders if Dean knows about his love for burgers in the same way he seems to know everything else about him.  Surprisingly enough Dean is more than happy to slide into a relaxed, casual conversation. The words flow easily between them, Dean's wit and charm somehow making him feel at ease. The beer helps things along, obviously, and Castiel feels himself opening up a little, able to speak without stuttering. They keep it light and jokey, nothing about their families or actual information about their lives, but it doesn't seem to matter. Castiel feels a little like he's dreaming; this is so far from the insanely hot, whispered barrage of filthy promises Dean spewed into his ear earlier in the lab that it makes Castiel's head spin.

Dean orders another two shots of tequila, and Castiel feels lighter. He finds that he's extremely hungry once his food is set down before him. They both dig in without hesitation, laughing about silly things, like why lettuce is put in burgers, which seems hilarious all of a sudden.

"Perhaps it's to fool people into believing it's a salad?" Castiel suggests, smiling, and Dean laughs until he has to sit back in his seat. 

A lull in conversation arises as it always does when there is a sudden keen interest in the food on people's plates, so Castiel concentrates for a minute on his burger, supposing that Dean is doing the same. All of a sudden, Dean's hand is on his knee, squeezing, and Castiel almost chokes. He glances up at Dean, the half-eaten burger on his plate forgotten, and finds Dean watching him. The look in his eyes reminds Castiel of how he appeared back in the lab; it makes him shiver. 

"Just going to the bathroom." He says, his voice low and quiet. There's a secret hidden underneath the words, Castiel can almost feel it. 

He watches Dean get up, stares after him as he walks away. All at once, he's no longer hungry, feels he could never be again, not with the churning in his stomach, the nerves that are fraying beneath his every skin cell. He pushes his plate away and takes a long pull of beer.

Then he notices something. Resting face down on the table, equidistant between him and Dean's place, is a folded napkin. It wasn't there before, Castiel is sure of it. It looks too deliberate, too out of place to be random. He picks it up gingerly, sliding it across the table towards him and into his lap. He gulps down some more beer, feeling his leg start to jump in anticipation. He flips it open beneath the table, revealing the hastily scrawled message inside: 

_Wait five minutes, then come into the bathroom._

Holy shit. Castiel's eyes widen, and his fist clenches around the napkin, hiding it from view. It's definitely been five minutes. Castiel swallows thickly, glad nobody is around to hear him. This is it. This is the culmination of Dean's fervent whispers as he pressed Castiel up against a desk. He'd gotten so used to having a breezy, superficial conversation with Dean that he forgot why the guy really brought him here. 

He feels his hands growing clammy, so he throws the napkin onto his plate and wipes them on his pants. He has no idea what to expect, no idea what's about to occur. All he knows is that he is petrified, but also wild with yearning, with a deep, desperate need to do as Dean has asked, to let him do whatever he wants, to allow him to fulfil those promises from earlier. 

He gets to his feet slowly, heart thumping, eyes darting about, looking to see if anyone's noticing him sneaking away into the back, where the restrooms are. Nobody is paying him any attention, just like always. He might as well be invisible to these kids, all so engrossed in their own meaningless conversations, laughing away like they're having the time of their lives. Well, Castiel thinks, near dizzy with nerves, he's possibly about to experience the time of his life, too. He breathes deeply, and begins walking, trying to look nonchalant. He feels hot all over; he's pretty sure his face is bright red and probably giving away his every terrified thought, but he pays it no mind. 

He spots the sign saying 'men' fairly quickly, and takes a deep breath as he approaches. After a moment of hesitation, he pushes open the bathroom door. Dean is stood right in front of him, across the room, leaned casually against the row of sinks. The look on his face is one of impatience. 

Castiel doesn't dare move, but it turns out that he doesn't have to.

"Close the door." Dean intones, commanding. Castiel obeys silently, and then Dean is striding over to him, turning his insides to mush.

He braces himself, back pressed against the door, ready for anything. Dean leans over him, tall and dominating, his proximity making Castiel's brain want to short circuit. Dean reaches down, his hand brushing against Castiel's hip, and then he hears the lock being turned. 

Dean watches him carefully, searching for a reaction in Castiel's fearful, desire-filled eyes. Slowly, Dean's hand lifts from the lock, up to Cas's cheekbone. Dean runs the back of his knuckle over the spot, then traces the hair that folds behind his ear. Castiel's eyelids flutter, and Dean smiles.

"Finally." Dean mutters. "I've got you alone."

* * *

Castiel whimpers a little, an involuntary sound. 

"Shhhhh, angel." Dean whispers, pressing the pad of his thumb against Castiel's mouth. He drags Cas's lower lip down a little, exposing a hint of his lower teeth. Dean hums in approval when Castiel doesn't object to this. "That's it. Good. Now, you remember what I told you, don't you sweetheart? You're gonna do everything I ask."

Castiel feels his heart pounding, and the memory of Dean telling him this back in the lab bursts into his mind. He nods slowly, desperate to show Dean how on board he is, even if he is completely terrified. Dean bites his own lip for a second, eyes travelling over Castiel's face; his hand slides further into Cas's hair, finding a chunk and grasping firmly.

Like a shark darting in for its prey, Dean leans in quickly, ducking his face to bury himself in the crook of Castiel's neck. Soft lips drag across the stubbled skin, slipping over Castiel's pulse. Castiel gasps, his eyes rolling backwards; this is a sensation he has never felt, and it's glorious. He can feel the soft scrape of Dean's teeth, teasing him, and he wants to moan because it's making his knees weaken, sending sparks undulating through his entire body. 

Dean mouths at him relentlessly, Cas's neck growing damp and sensitive, until suddenly Dean's lips are pressed against the spot where his throat meets his jaw, kissing against the skin over and over, inching up until he reaches the earlobe. He licks the shell of Castiel's ear, which seems at first bizarre, but then magnificent, and Dean has to slip his arm around Cas's waist to stop him falling to the floor in rapture. 

"I've been wantin' you so bad, Cas." Dean practically hisses into his ear. "All fuckin' night. All fuckin' day. All fuckin'  _week."_  Castiel moans a little, surprised at himself for making such an obscene noise."Can't stop thinkin' about earlier, when I had you in that lab. All pressed up against the desk- rock hard for me weren't you?" Dean licks into Castiel's ear, making him squeak and wriggle in Dean's hold. "It was so damn hard to leave you alone in there, Cas." Dean tells him, and Castiel finds he's having trouble processing the words. "All I wanted to do was bend you over one o'those desks, slide in, fuck you nice and hard right there until you screamed my name." 

Castiel is no longer coherent. The sounds he makes are pathetic, desperate, and all he can do is surrender to it, listen as the litany of filth falling from Dean's lips wraps around him, igniting a long-dormant fire deep within the core of his being.  

"Ungh, Dean," Castiel near sobs as he feels Dean's hand running down his chest, smoothing over the planes of his stomach, and then even further, slipping over the bulge in his pants. The hand rests there for a moment, and Dean watches him carefully, mouth parted, those gorgeous features so close to his. Then he squeezes, lightly.

"Oh, God.." Castiel moans, pushing his hips forwards into the touch. 

"Fuck, look at you." Dean mutters. "You're wrecked and I've barely even touched you." He seems baffled by this, and starts to rub Castiel a little harder, making his fists clench. "I bet I could get you off just by talkin', huh? Forget that though," Dean chuckles darkly, "that's for another time." 

It's at that moment that it first occurs to Castiel that he could be touching Dean right now. He finds himself frustrated that he hadn't thought of this earlier, because this is a once in a lifetime moment, and it might be that nobody as insanely perfect as Dean ever gets this close to him again. He grips hold of one of the lapels of Dean's scarlet Letterman with one hand, and the other scrabbles for purchase somewhere else on his person, only to end up hooked around the back of Dean's neck. Dean seems amused by this, but says nothing, just observing Castiel's reactions with a curious, hungry look. 

He's so distracted by the feel of Dean beneath his fingers for the first time, that it takes Castiel a moment to realise that Dean's hand has moved from his erection, and is tugging at his belt. He seems to be having some difficulty, and Castiel looks down, bewildered, wondering what on earth Dean is doing. Dean grunts, clearly frustrated with the garment, his brow creased, a slight frown marring his beautiful face. After a moment he steps back, Castiel's hands slipping free of him; he nearly falls from the loss of contact. 

"Take it off." Dean orders, and Castiel, remembering Dean's condition about doing everything he asks, scrambles to obey. Under his own practiced hands, the belt slides free easily, and Dean lets out a satisfied sigh. "Now the pants. And hurry up."

Castiel blushes a little as he unbuttons his fly, but complies willingly, letting the black pants fall to his ankles and stepping free of them. Dean surveys him for a moment before stepping forwards again, finding Cas's hands, and pinning them up by his shoulders against the door. 

"Cas, listen to me carefully. You're not to move your hands from here, alright? No matter what."

Castiel nods slowly, showing he's understood, and Dean stares him in the eye for a minute to check he's got it. Then, too fast for Castiel to properly comprehend, Dean's hands are at the waistband of his underwear, his fingers sliding beneath them to meet sensitive skin. Dean hooks them with one hand and pulls them down, sending them to the floor along with Castiel's pants, leaving him completely exposed. 

Dean stares for a good long while, seeming to drink in the sight of Castiel's flushed penis, leaking beads of precome, begging to be touched. Castiel bites his lip, and then Dean's hand is upon him, and it's more than Castiel could ever have comprehended. He sees galaxies bursting to life behind his eyelids, feels the euphoric sensations of every drug he's ever read about, cries out louder than he ever thought he would in a situation like this. Not that he really thought he'd ever be in a situation exactly like this one. Dean watches him, collecting every expression flitting across Cas's face. He grips the base of Cas's cock firmly, waiting for a moment before he starts to softly stroke up and down the shaft. The noises Castiel makes at this point are inimitable, but Dean seems to drink those in too, eyes gleaming as though each sound he draws out is part of a brilliant symphony where he is in control. 

Dean strokes his thumb up over the head, dragging the liquid that's pooled there across Castiel's straining frenulum. Dean's other hand works its way down Castiel's back, stopping at the taut, tender skin of his bared ass, squeezing the flesh there so that Castiel's hips jut forward into Dean's hand. Kudos to the guy, Cas's hands have stayed firmly pinned to that door. 

Dean leans back in, smirking to himself, and begins mouthing at Castiel's jawline, using teeth and tongue as he speeds up jacking Castiel, listening with rapture to the broken cries emanating from Cas's mouth. It takes a few hard pumps, along with Dean sucking an enormous hickey into Cas's neck, but then the little guy is shaking, coming, spurting hot white mess all over Dean's hand and his own underwear at his feet. 

Castiel groans heavily, sagging into Dean, who removes his hand and holds Cas for a moment. After a minute or so, Castiel stands up again, looking satiated but still hungry, leaping towards Dean, trying to pull him in for a kiss. Dean pushes him off gently but firmly, smiling and shaking his head. 

"You did awesome, Cas. You did everythin' I said." Castiel blinks at him, clearly confused. "Now, get yourself cleaned up and meet me back at the table, alright? Don't be too long now, I don't wanna be banned from this place."

Castiel stares at Dean, disbelief in his eyes. Okay, so he's not the world's greatest expert, but he's pretty sure this kind of thing is meant to be reciprocated, no? Why is Dean not allowing him to repay the favour? 

Dean grins at his expression, leaning forwards to press his lips against Cas's forehead. "God you're hot like this."

And with that, Dean reaches down, unlocks the door, turns to wink at Cas, makes a show of licking one of his fingers as he does so, and dashes through the door. 

What the fuck just happened, Castiel wonders. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dial up the intensity- why not? It's not like Cas is worrying about his sanity or anything.

Castiel breathes heavily for a moment, trying to gather himself. He's alone in this bathroom now, Dean's just gone back out into the restaurant, is probably sat at their table right this moment, nonchalant as anything, as if nothing monumental just occurred. 

Okay, gotta think rationally, Castiel tells himself. Dean has asked him to do something; no matter the strangeness of that whole situation that just occurred, Castiel doesn't want Dean annoyed with him. He wants desperately to please Dean, to do what he wants - then maybe he'll get to run  _his own_ hands over that indescribable body. 

Castiel's dick twitches at the thought and he groans, the leftover spasms of pleasure from a mind-blowing orgasm making themselves known. Slowly, with the little strength he has left in him, Castiel reaches to turn the lock on the door again. 

He makes his way one step at a time towards the large mirror above the sinks, and for the first time gets a look at the state Dean left him in. He sucks in a breath at his reflection. His hair is an onyx bird's nest, crowning his blissed out expression. His eyes are lidded and heavy, his lower lip reddened where Castiel himself was biting at it. Castiel leans forward to see if his lip is bleeding, and that's when he catches sight of the enormous purpling bruise running up his throat, still glistening a little with Dean's saliva. Castiel reaches up to stroke it gingerly, shuddering when he feels the indents of Dean's teeth in the violet skin. 

His shirt is crumpled, the last few buttons undone, probably slipping free of their holes when Dean's frantic hands had tugged incessantly at his belt. He's entirely naked from the waist down except for his socks and shoes, which neither of them had bothered to remove. His thighs are smattered with his own spendings, and he's pretty sure his underwear is too, wherever that ended up. 

He's completely wrecked. Dean has turned him inside out with what was basically an intense hand job in the bathroom of a restaurant. If only Castiel could have touched him, he thinks mournfully. He realises too late that of course that's the thing he really wanted; sure Dean Fucking Winchester taking (at least a part of) his virginity is the absolute, hands-down, most brilliant thing that's ever happened to him and probably ever  _will_ happen to him... but if he's being honest, in every Dean-fantasy Castiel's had in the last few days (and there have been a hell of a lot) Dean was always butt-naked, every inch of him available and willing to be touched, kissed, licked again and again by Castiel's greedy fingers or tongue.

And now it may never happen again. Dean is undoubtedly not going to want a repeat - why would he? I mean, Castiel thinks, why did he even want this date? Whatever the reason, he clearly got what he wanted, because he was calling the shots and could have had Cas do anything with just word. He's not going to want to do this again, there's no way.

Castiel sighs, reaching for the faucet and starting the messy process of cleaning up. Just as he's washing out the hem of his shirt however, a memory slips into his brain. Dean, whispering burning hot words into his ear, telling Castiel he is "wrecked" despite Dean barely touching him; saying he bets he could have Castiel coming in moments with just his voice, just the words in his ear; Dean laughing and telling Cas he's going to save that for 'another time'. 

 _Another time._ That definitely implies a second hook-up  _at the very least._

Castiel stares at himself, disbelieving, in the mirror, his misty blue eyes hazy and uncomprehending. He breaks his gaze at last, shaking his head and heading across to the door to pull on his underwear and pants. No, Dean had probably just said it without thinking. There's no way. 

* * *

 

When Castiel finally emerges from the bathroom, straightened out as best as he could manage, looking frantic because he's sure people can  _smell_ the iniquity on him, he gets back to the table to find it empty except for his coat, bag and umbrella. 

Castiel looks about, puzzled; even their plates and glasses are gone. Then Castiel sees another note; a message scrawled on a napkin again: 

 _Sorry, Cas- gotta run. Family emergency._  
 _I picked up the tab. Hope you had fun - I sure did ;)  
_ _I'll call you soon, Dean_

He'll call? Castiel scoffs, picking up the note and scrunching it into his fist. That'll be a neat trick when he doesn't even have my number, Cas thinks. After a moment he sighs, opening his hand and smoothing out the note. It's a memento at least. He wants to keep something, to prove this was a real thing that actually happened. At least he has ridiculous amounts of fuel for his Dean-fantasies now - he fucking knows what Dean's hands _feel_ like when they jerk him off. Castiel can't help but smile a little. 

So Dean got what he wanted and ditched? What did Castiel expect? A walk to his door and a goodnight kiss? This was _Dean Winchester_ for crying out loud. He probably does this with a different guy or girl every day. Castiel is damn lucky, that's what. He gathers his things, and walks out of The Roadhouse, his steps as light as air.

* * *

 

The following day is Wednesday; Castiel goes to his Religious Studies lectures and Seminars the same as normal, the boring, uneventful routine already imprinted into his muscle memory. His body is there, his pen scrawls the notes as Professor Shurley rambles on, but his mind is back in that booth with Dean - watching the lines crinkle around his sea-green eyes, remembering the way he threw back his head to laugh at Castiel's stupid attempted-witty comments. The winks he gave after every shot of tequila that set Cas's stomach a flutter. 

At night, alone in his room, that's when he allows the other memories to fill his brain - the feel of the auburn hair on the back of Dean's neck as Castiel grasped hold, short and bristled, but soft like a smattering of fur. Dean's hot, laboured breaths against his neck, ghosting over the spot just below his ear. Dean telling him how badly he wanted to  _fuck_ him- oh god - while he jerks Cas mercilessly, encouraging Cas's hips to thrust forwards into his slicked hand. 

Castiel comes again and again, entire body trembling as he makes a mess of his sheets, still wide awake at 3am because Dean's lust-filled eyes won't leave his brain.

Thursday holds some excitement for Castiel; at 2pm he has Physics, which means Dean will have BioChem just before. He'll get to see him again at the very least. He doesn't care if it's awkward, he doesn't care if Dean ignores him completely - okay, maybe he'd care a bit about that, but the point is he gets to  _see_ him. Gets to stare at that beautiful face once more. 

It's a little sad that he's so excited about a mere glimpse of the guy, but can you blame him? Castiel's practically obsessed. 

* * *

 

It seems years go by in the wait for 1:55pm - Castiel has so many coffees he's actually shaking as he sits outside the lab, impatient for time to tick forwards. For the first time in his life, The Smiths do not soothe him; Morrissey seems to be dragging his songs out, every syllable he speaks stretching on for eternity. Eventually Castiel yanks the earphones out and just stares at the door, willing it to open. 

At last the knob turns, those laughing, jostling voices getting louder - Crowley's voice among them, telling them all to 'shut the hell up and do some bloody work' in his thick British accent. Castiel gets to his feet, tutting to himself every time a jock sidles out of classroom but it's not  _him._ At last Walker strolls through, whistling, the last one out.

Dean's not here. 

Castiel's heart plunges to his feet. He waited for nothing. 

Maybe it's the disappointment, the sheer shock of his expectation for a split second of joy being trashed, but Castiel can't help himself. He starts forward, grabbing hold of Walker's shoulder so he turns around, confused. 

"What the- oh, didn't see you there, Freshman. What is it?"

Castiel takes a few breaths, willing himself not to sound too desperate. "W-Where's Dean?" 

Walker huffs a breath, scrutinising Castiel's weedy frame, taking in his square, black-framed reading glasses. Castiel realises he forgot to take them off. At least Dean didn't see him in those, Castiel consoles himself. 

"Are you one of our Pledges?" Walker asks sceptically. "Cause if you are, Winchester's gonna give you Hell when I tell him you 'forgot' to call him his correct name."

Castiel shakes his head. "N-no I'm-" He breaks off, mind working fast. Perhaps if he pretends to be a Pledge Castiel will be entitled to know where Dean is today. "I mean, so sorry brother. Yes, I am a lowly Pledge. Where is Alpha today?"

Walker studies him for a second, then breaks out into a slow grin. "C'mon scrawny, I'll take you to Alpha." 

Castiel balks, realising too late that he's gotten himself into trouble when Walker grabs hold of his upper arm. "Wait, I have Physics-"

"Shut your whore mouth, scum," Walker hisses, interrupting him. He brings their faces close, and despite his expression staying neutral, Castiel can see the venom in his eyes. "From now on, your class schedule is up to me and the other Psi Delta Alpha brothers, you got that?"

He nods frantically, marvelling at the calm demeanour Walker keeps on the outside. Were anyone to see them as they walked by, they would undoubtedly assume he and Castiel were having a quiet, private conversation - nothing too out of the ordinary. Was this the sort of treatment all the Pledges received?

"C'mon, nerd." Walker hisses again, smiling now, hooking his arm through Cas's and pulling him down the hall.

* * *

 

Soon after they leave the building, Walker pulls Castiel along until they reach the other Frat boys - the ones Castiel has dreamily watched float by him twice a week since he started here. They all look at him with amused interest, occasionally 'dropping' their books on him, telling him to pick them up, or shoving into him when they walk near a road. Several times Castiel tries to quietly slip away from the group of them, but they always see him just in time, pushing him to the front of the pack to walk ahead of them, kneeing him from behind. 

Castiel doesn't know for sure of course, but he's relatively certain they're headed for the Frat house, and this terrifies him. He hates these places; he's been into Gabriel's once before on a visit a couple of years ago - it was a disgusting hot bed of drugs, alcohol and sex - everything in the place was filthy, and the guys were so vulgar Castiel sometimes found himself gagging at the things they'd say. 

Gabriel fit right in of course, born to be a Frat boy. He soaked up the life quicker than a dry sponge, partying non-stop, getting a reputation as the 'prankster' of the house, or as he likes to call himself 'The Trickster'. Castiel tries to recall the name of Gabriel's Fraternity, but it escapes him. 

Eventually they turn down a street of large, beautiful-looking houses, all practically identical except for the giant Ancient Greek lettering above each front door. 

Castiel gulps loudly, and the others laugh at his expression. 

"Scared to come home, Pledge?" One of them asks mockingly, Castiel doesn't catch which. 

"Holy shit, guys - look at his neck! Geek chic's been gettin' some action!" It's Milton this time, Castiel thinks his first name might be Luke. 

Walker grabs him by the shoulders, and Castiel struggles against his hold- one of the others yanks his head back by his hair, exposing his mottled neck. 

"Well I'll be damned." Walker says, chuckling. "Look at you, drownin' in pussy." 

Castiel snorts, unable to stop himself. Well, they couldn't be further from the truth. 

"Oh, he thinks it's funny!" Walker says, his grip on Cas's shoulders tightening, his fingers digging in sharply. "Well, let's see what Alpha's gotta say about your extracurricular activities, you little slut." 

Castiel's stomach flips violently. Shit, they're really taking him to Dean. What the Hell is he going to do? He can't fathom what Dean's reaction will be, seeing the guy he took out to dinner and jerked off on Tuesday night paraded into his Frat house by the others. He's obviously going to know that Castiel is  _not_ a Pledge for Psi Delta Alpha - or any Fraternity for that matter. 

After this, any chance Castiel ever had of getting anything from Dean ever again (not that he was even hoping for that really, he knows he's had his chance) are completely out the window. He's going to have to run for it. The others are marching forwards again now, their hands shoving at Castiel's back every few meters. Castiel sees the Psi Delta Alpha symbols a fair way down the street (yeah, he knows the Greek Alphabet - it's a useful skill, alright?). He tenses, preparing for the sudden escape. He has one shot. 

Taking a breath and hitching his bag up his shoulder, he counts to three. One, two, thr-

Walker's hand clamps down hard on his shoulder again, holding firmly. "Don't even think about it, freshman. Dean's gonna be so pleased to see you."

Castiel gulps, surrendering. Oh how wrong he is.

* * *

The interior of this Frat house looks exactly the same as Gabriel's did, confirming Castiel's belief that these brainwashed, sexist idiots are all exactly the same. He looks around himself frantically nonetheless, taking in the framed group photographs and portraits on the walls, dating back to the early 1800's, maybe even before then - all pictures of the Psi Delta Alpha brothers together, 'bonded for life'.

There are listed achievements hanging on the gaudy wallpaper as well, things such as the 'Psi Delta Alpha discovery of beer pong' and the cherished brother who wrote 'Kama Sutra For Idiots'.

There's a stairway right in front of him, with a large landing - the banisters strung with fairy lights and colourful signs showing the house's belief that 'Bacon Is Just Another Word For Meat Candy' and that 'It's All Fun And Games Until The Beer Runs Out'. Castiel rolls his eyes more times than he thinks he ever has before in one room. 

Then Walker tells him in a stern voice: "Stay here Pledge, I'm gettin' the Alpha."

All at once, Castiel is terrified again. The others casually sort of stand about the room, not drifting away to their respective rooms or to the communal areas, and Castiel suspects this is because usually a 'hazing' is a public event, intended to be seen by the entire Fraternity. He remembers just in time that he's still sporting his stupid reading glasses, probably making the situation ten times worse just with that, so he whips them off fast, shoving them in his shirt pocket. Moments later, as Castiel's about to chew through his lip with worry, Walker glides back in, a wicked smile on his face. 

"He's comin' alright." He tells Castiel, and Cas closes his eyes, willing this to be over. "PLEDGES. Front and centre! STEP ON IT!" 

There are frantic footsteps at the sound of Walker's yell, and Castiel watches, still petrified, as five young, equally scared and abused looking boys his age scramble down the stairs. They line up in front of Walker, either side of Castiel, some of them looking at him curiously as they spot him, but saying nothing. 

Walker grins at them all. "How are we today, freaks?" They all answer, speaking quietly, telling Walker they're 'good' or 'fine', though they look anything but. Walker stops in front of a sandy-haired boy to the left of Castiel. "What about you, Adam? You say you're good?"

Adam looks completely petrified, and Castiel wonders what on earth he's about to witness. Is Walker going to hit this poor kid? Adam gives a tight nod, squeezing his eyes shut immediately after, as if bracing himself.

"Well let's take that down a notch shall we?!" Walker roars, grabbing Adam by the ear so he squeals. "Get in the fuckin' bathroom you asswipe, the toilet's filthy, use your toothbrush and get it  _sparkling_ , you got that?!"

Adam nods frantically, eyes watering as Walker pulls him about by his ear. He releases the kid after a moment, letting him flee from the hall, heading for the stairs again. He stumbles a few times on the way up, and Castiel stares after him, open-mouthed. 

Just then, there are footsteps, coming from where Walker left to find Dean. Castiel whips his head round towards the source of the noise, heart in his throat, palms sweating. Sure enough, there he is, sauntering through the doorway, expecting nothing amiss - Dean Winchester, Alpha, perfect specimen, the subject of Castiel's wet dreams for what feels like forever. Castiel can't help the surge of arousal that ploughs through him as he walks casually into the hall. 

He's wearing a smug grin, looking at all the Pledges lined up before him, eyes twinkling with mischief. He hasn't got his Letterman jacket on today, instead he simply wears a white tank top that sports the Psi Delta Alpha logo, revealing expanses of skin and ripped, bulging muscle that Castiel has never seen before outside his daydreams. Great, he thinks, as all the blood in his body rushes south - a boner will really help this situation!

"Well, what we got here then?" Dean asks rhetorically, and the others seem to tremble a little. "I hear one o'you Pledge monkeys has been askin' after m-"

There we go. Castiel thinks, dying of embarrassment instantly. Dean's eyes meet his, his sentence breaks off; he stares, mouth hanging slightly open at the sight of Castiel, here, now - in a row with all the Pledges. What on earth must Dean be thinking, Castiel wonders, feeling his face redden. God, this is humiliating. Dean looks away at once, calculating, and turns to Walker. 

It might be his imagination, but Castiel swears he sees a glimpse of something almost.. _predatory_ in Dean's eyes just before he turns away. 

"What's goin' on here, Gordon?" Dean asks Walker, his voice low and sharp with confusion and doubt, though authoritative nonetheless. Gordon looks up at Dean, surprised.

"It's this one, Alpha." Gordon says (Ohhh,  _Gordon_ Walker, that's his name, Cas thinks), striding up to Castiel and pulling him forwards by the collar. "He was askin' after you. Called you  _Dean._ "

If Castiel didn't know better, he'd say Dean looked a little nervous with Castiel this close. He furrows his brow, looking Castiel up and down for a moment, as if deciding what the Hell to do with him.

Just kick me out, Castiel thinks pleadingly, tell them I'm not a Pledge!

He could run away from this house, run all the way back to his room, avoid Dean for the rest of the time they're both at this college, turn up late to every Physics lesson, never venture onto the Sports Field again. 

Then, suddenly, Dean grins. It's a near-sadistic grin, one that Castiel has seen before in far different situations, and it does nothing to help his growing erection. Neither does the sight of Dean's biceps up this close. Castiel's eyes seem to stray to Dean's arms every ten seconds without his permission. 

"It's uh, Novak isn't it?" Dean asks at length, and Castiel's eyes widen. What the... how the Hell did Dean even know that?! Castiel just nods dumbly. "Well Novak, see how I don't call you by your first name, huh?" Dean steps close to him, brings their faces together, inches apart. "That's because in Psi Delta Alpha we don't DO THAT SHIT, alright?!" 

The crescendo of Dean's voice takes Castiel a little by surprise and he jumps (much to the satisfaction of the others, who all splutter) but he understands what Dean is doing. To keep Castiel safe, to keep him from being pounded to a pulp for lying about being a Pledge, Dean has to pretend, to keep up appearances. Castiel is grateful. Dean doesn't have to do that for him, they just went out on one date after all. 

Castiel nods frantically nonetheless, looking down at the ground. 

"You will call me ALPHA, because I am your superior - you got that, bitch?!" Dean grabs Cas's chin and tilts it up harshly so they are forced to maintain eye contact. Castiel nods again, chewing his lip, eyes silently apologetic. Then something happens - it's very quick, Castiel almost misses it, but he's glad he didn't. Dean's tongue darts out, wetting his blush-pink lips, and he lets his emerald eyes grow dark and lidded, conveying something through expression alone. "Good." 

Dean lets him go. Castiel reels for a second, trying to work out what the Hell just occurred. Dean had looked almost... lustful. Like he had in the bathroom when Castiel first came through the door. What the Hell does that mean? Before he can reason it out, Dean is speaking again, this time to the entire room as well as Castiel. 

"Now, o'course I can't just let you walk outta here freely without a  _punishment."_ Dean says loudly, and Castiel's stomach twists. Fuck. Is Dean really gonna let them hurt him? Is  _Dean_ going to hurt him? "Y'know what boys," Dean says, as though he's just thought of something, "I haven't really been involved in the hazing for a while... I think I'll take this filthy whore, remind him who's boss around here." Castiel's mouth drops open a little. The others actually let out whoops and cheers, fully trusting of Dean's brilliant hazing skills. Dean steps towards Castiel again, grinning wide. "Yeah, I'll pound him till he gets my name right, that's for damn sure." 

Castiel's knees weaken. Oh, _fuck_.

"Gordon, boys, take him to my room."  


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas might have changed his opinion of Frat houses somewhat. Hm, why you ask? Oh no reason...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, hope you're enjoying so far! Not sure how long this is going to be yet... I have lots of ideas, and the story is kind of writing itself so... I could keep it up for a while I think! Let me know your thoughts, I'll be updating as often as I can :) xx

"Get him good, Winchester - I wanna hear Freshman screams from my room!" Gordon yells as Dean closes the door firmly behind them.

"Well," Dean intones, locking the door and turning to Castiel, flexing his arms a little, "I'm sure that won't be a problem."

Castiel's heart is jackhammering, he's shaking uncontrollably, so much that his bag slips to the floor. Dean's looking at him with that same glint in his eye, the one that gets Cas rock hard every time, the one that's making him want to fall to his knees and submit to everything and anything Dean wants.

To distract himself from the sensations ricocheting around his body, and because Dean is just staring, watching his every movement, Cas looks around Dean's room. After all, it's something he thought he'd never get to see. There are the same familiar gaudy, lewd decorations that are all around the house - a neon sign reading 'Beer O'Clock', a lava lamp, a pretty enormous bong... Cas turns on his heel so he's facing the other direction. There's a noticeboard by the window, covered in party photos, showing Dean on various different 'wild' nights -  drinking from kegs, covered in neon paint, surrounded by half-naked (sometimes completely naked) girls and doing many more things Castiel doesn't even know how to describe.

In the top left hand corner of the noticeboard is a pin which seems to be holding a rainbow of at least a dozen pairs of lacy panties in place - tokens of Dean's conquests no doubt. In the other corner is a crumpled photo of Dean when he was slightly younger than now, his arm around a younger boy with shaggy brown hair. There's a smile on both their faces. Castiel wonders absently who this is.

"You want the grand tour?" Dean asks mockingly, following Castiel's gaze. He steps up behind the younger boy, letting his chest brush against Castiel's back. Castiel's breath hitches, and he shudders as he feels Dean's mouth lower to his ear. "Over here we've got, well, we've got my bed Cas, y'see it?"

Dean inclines his head in the direction, drawing Castiel's attention to the part of the room he'd been trying to avoid looking at. Dean's rumpled, unmade single bed, still pretty large despite being made for one person. Castiel imagines Dean in it, not sleeping though, Castiel's too far gone to imagine that. Instead he pictures Dean restless, maybe sliding a hand under those covers on a cold winter morning, feeling the familiar bulge of his morning wood and deciding to get rid of it. His hand slipping under the waistband of his underwear- unless he sleeps naked... oh God. Castiel bites his lip.

"And over there's my cupboard, see?" Dean continues, his voice still low and breathy by Cas's ear. "It's got all sorts of... fun stuff in there. Stuff I use for naughty Pledges mostly but- oh wait a second..." Castiel stops breathing for a moment as Dean's hands wind around his waist, threading underneath his arms to wrap around his chest. "...I forgot. You are a Pledge now, aren't you Cas? And, yup, you've definitely, _definitely_ ," one of Dean's hands is sliding down Cas's front, breaching the front of his pants, forcing Cas's head to loll back against Dean's shoulder, "been naughty."

"D-Dean-" Castiel gasps; Dean's hand has slipped over the bump of his erection, and the older boy squeezes gently, chastising. "Uh-uh, Cas baby, bad little Pledges like you've gotta learn your lesson about this shit." Dean removes his hand and Cas cries out, reaching for Dean in any way he can. "Stop it, Cas. Hands by your sides."

Dean's voice is commanding, and Castiel bites his lip, reluctantly obeying.

"That's it, good. Now, you're gonna learn to call me Alpha, at least for today. I'm gonna teach you to do that, alright?" Castiel tries hard to listen to Dean's words. "One step at a time. Now, I'm gonna let go of you in a moment, and you're gonna go over to that cupboard and pull out the blindfold. Got that?"

Castiel shivers, nodding, and Dean lets him go. Castiel is very unsteady on his feet as he makes his way over to the cupboard. His cheeks burn, he knows Dean is watching him, but he gets there with small steps, pulling open the cupboard doors and searching through the contents.

His cheeks pinken when he sees the things inside: handcuffs - furry and non, ropes, belts, paddles, various toys in many colours and sizes - he spots the blindfolds at last, handing up on the inside of the door. He grabs one of them and heads back to Dean, holding it out to him. Dean licks his lips.

"Good. Now put it on."

His voice is softer now - he's standing in the middle of the room, arms folded, a pace away from Castiel. He watches expectantly, and Castiel blushes yet again, but tactfully does as he's told, placing the black material (the Psi Delta Alpha insignia on the front of course) over his eyes and tying it carefully, keeping it tight. He doesn't want to cheat. He wants to make Dean as happy as possible.

Though it is a damn shame to lose such a beautiful sight; Dean looks friggin' hot today.

"Mmm." Dean murmurs, and he's gotten closer, Castiel can feel it. Cas reaches for him blindly, hands outstretching. Surprisingly, Dean lets him, allows Castiel to come into contact with the ribbed material of that tank top, says nothing as Cas, breathing heavily, slides his hands upwards to Dean's bare shoulders, smooths down his muscular arms. "Feels good, Cas. You touchin' me like that."

Fuck, Cas had already forgotten how badly he is affected by Dean's words alone. He shudders violently, making a small squeak. "I-I like touching you, Dean." Castiel blurts out. "I like it a lot."

"Yeah?" Dean asks, grabbing one of Castiel's hands and beginning to guide it. Castiel's other hand stutters in its movement; he's helpless, trying to blindly figure out Dean's next move is exhausting. Dean's dragging Cas's hand upwards, towards his face. All at once, Cas's fingers are stroking over the damp, impossibly soft skin of Dean's thick, full lips and Cas gasps, arching back a little as Dean sucks those same fingers into the warm, wet cavern of his mouth.

His tongue flicks at them, full of unspoken promises, and Castiel lets out a keening noise, wishing to God he could see this, though he would probably spill his load right then if he did. Then Dean opens his mouth, Cas's fingers retreat, and Dean steps away.

"You wanna touch me more, Cas?"

Castiel moans quietly, knees nearly buckling. "Oh God, yes, so much."

"You gotta call me the right name then, Cas, c'mon we talked about this." Fuck, Cas had called him Dean again. Alpha. Here Dean is Alpha. He has to learn that. "Tell you what though, you've been so good- doin' everythin' I say..." Fingers ghost down one of Castiel's cheeks, taking him by surprise. There's a rustling sound, movement, and then the sound of something being thrown to the floor. "...here. A reward."

Castiel is unsure at first, he doesn't know what Dean means. He waits, expectantly, thinking Dean might come and kiss him or something (if he's lucky). Then, when Dean doesn't come to him, he realises he's expected to go to Dean. He reaches out blindly again, taking a step forward; his hand presses against something - a surface that's soft, smooth, hard and impossibly warm all at once. The bulging pectoral muscles under Cas's hands give the game away, and Cas lets out a strangled sound.

Dean's taken off his top. God, he's beautiful. Even without the sight, Castiel can tell. Dean's bare chest is just acres of gorgeous, rippling skin and defined sports muscle. Castiel nearly starts humping his leg right there.

Dean chuckles, probably at the wanton expression Cas is wearing. "Like that, huh?"

Castiel's answer is to lean forwards and press his lips to that golden promise land of bared flesh, exposed to him and only him. Dean sucks in a breath, and Castiel, finding courage from the recesses of his brain, starts mouthing at him, his tongue darting out to trace the edges of each muscle, his teeth scraping at the hard lines of Dean's collarbone. Dean's hands thread into Castiel's hair, which Cas takes as a good sign, so he works his way over to Dean's right nipple, taking it between his lips and pulling gently, his tongue swirling around the soft skin, biting softly until Dean actually moans.

"Fuck, Cas..." Dean hisses through his teeth, and he sounds as desperate as Castiel. "C'mere. Now."

Dean hooks his hands under Castiel's armpits before he can even respond, dragging him upwards so they're flush against each other. Dean leans in, burying his face in the spot on Cas's neck where he had before, mouthing at the bruise he's already made there.

"Love that you walked in here with this mark, Cas." Dean growls into his throat. "That you've been walkin' round with it, lettin' everyone see how I marked you up. Fuck, Cas. Do you even know how much I'm into you?" Dean bites down hard enough to get Cas crying out, but he would never have Dean stop. "You wanna touch me more, Cas? Wanna get me off with your hands? With your pretty little mouth?"

Cas cries out, thrusting his hips forward into Dean, hands grasping at the bared skin of his back, so warm with exertion already.

"Yes, Dean, please I want it so much."

Dean growls, letting him go and pushing him backwards a little way. "Alpha!"

Castiel curses himself. He has to stop. If he doesn't remember to say it, Dean will kick him out, that will be the end. It's just so hard when Dean is talking like that and he's not even wearing a shirt and- no. No excuses. He has to remember.

"Take off your pants, Cas."

Cas breathes deeply, Dean's voice trickling into his through the pores of his skin, goosebumps rippling up his arms. His breaths come in shuddering sighs. He does it as quickly as possible, throwing the pants into an unknown corner once they're off him, awaiting Dean's next instruction.

"And the shirt." Dean adds, as if he's just thought about it.

Castiel's fingers are too shaky to work the buttons of his shirt, so after the first few he just rips them. He has dozens of shirts. What he doesn't have is the patience to keep his hands off Dean much longer. Dean laughs when Cas rips his shirt open.

"Woah now, gettin' kinda eager."

"I want to touch you again, Dean." Castiel replies hoarsely, using Dean's own words to inspire him. "I want to feel you against me, inside me. I want you to come and I want to lick it off my fingers, I want to swallow every bit of you. I don't think I can wait much longer."

There's a long silence; Castiel wonders if he spoke out of turn and suddenly feels anxious.

"Well," Dean croaks out at last, sounding surprised, with a hint of something else Castiel can't pinpoint, "it's to the point, I guess. Take off your underwear and wait exactly there, Cas." Dean clears his throat a little, as if wondering how to get things back on track. "Oh, and call me Dean again, you'll be sorry. I'll let that one... uh, slide."

Castiel complies, feeling only slightly awkward as he exposes himself to the room, even though he knows Dean is the only one there. Last time he had four shots of tequila to keep the nerves and self-consciousness at bay, now he is stone cold sober. He listens intently to Dean's movements, hearing a zipper and more rustling. Dean suddenly chuckles.

"And the shoes, Cas. And the socks."

Castiel blushes, feeling silly. He does this as quickly as possible, standing obediently still again once he has completed the task. There are no more sounds from the other end of the room now; Dean has ceased moving. Castiel fidgets awkwardly, wondering what is going on and why Dean isn't talking or instructing him. A minute passes, and Dean finally speaks.

"Christ, you're gorgeous Cas."

That said, Castiel hears purposeful footsteps striding towards him, followed seconds later by an arm wrapping around his waist. Dean's mouth travels to his ear, kissing and mouthing at it, his hot breaths sending spasms of pleasure through Castiel, making him tremble in Dean's arms. It takes Castiel a while to notice (embarrassingly) but he realises that, here, flush against Dean like this, he can feel skin on skin contact below the waist. He feels Dean's leg against his, feels their hips slot together, and-oh! Like a freight train ploughing into him full-speed, Castiel realises that the object poking against his groin area is Dean's own erection. Dean is naked, and more than that, he's every bit as hard as Cas is, every bit as turned on; Castiel moans, long and loud as Dean's mouth continues to work at his ear.

"Please, please-" Cas stutters out, and Dean hesitates.

"What? What is it? You good?" Dean murmurs, his voice weirdly full of concern.

"Please Dean, let me..."

Dean growls. "Alpha, Cas! Let you what?"

Castiel groans, his eyes squeezed shut behind the blindfold. "Alpha, sorry alpha... please... please let me touch you."

Dean pauses, and then Castiel just knows he's grinning. "You want that? Want it real bad?" Castiel nods fervently, and then he's being walked backwards, stumbling a little, but held firm by Dean's arms. All of a sudden his back hits a wall, and Dean leans forward, his mouth close enough to kiss. "Alright Cas, since you've been so good. Come here, that's it."

Castiel feels himself being manoeuvred carefully so that he's facing Dean, and Dean is the one with his back to the wall. Cas waits with baited breath, knowing he is within moments reach of his aching fantasy. He feels Dean's hand, firm but not too sharp against the top of his head, pushing against his skull, guiding him downwards.

"Get on your knees." Dean says, voice rough.

Castiel smiles a little; he can sense the want in Dean's voice. Dean is aroused - aroused because of  _him._ Cas is sure there is no feeling comparable to this one. He sinks to his knees eagerly, mouth filling with saliva in anticipation of what's about to occur. He squashes down the nervous butterflies in his stomach - he might not know what the fuck he's doing, but he's damn well going to give it all he's got. As soon as the scratchy carpet hits the bare skin of his knees, Castiel reaches for Dean. His hands rest on powerful, sparsely bristled thighs, smoothing upwards so he can orientate himself - he doesn't want to embarrassingly lean in and miss his target, as it were. If only he could _see_...

Dean grunts his approval as Cas's fingers slide through the small gathering of short hairs between Dean's legs, and finally, _finally_ like the light at the end of a seemingly never-ending tunnel, Castiel's fingers brush against Dean's hardness, his hands stroking against the stiff, hot length of him. Dean utters a breathy "fuck..." and Castiel hears a thunk, like Dean's head hitting the wall. 

The reaction alone gives Castiel a surge of courage, and he grips Dean at the base of his erection, just like Dean did to him back in The Roadhouse, his hand forming a tunnel as he strokes up and down the length, feeling the girth of him, the width. He feels  _gorgeous,_ his skin velvet smooth, the thin veins erupting beneath the textured flesh. Cas damn near rips the blindfold off, hardly caring whatever punishment  Dean might give him for doing so. 

Castiel's thumb rubs softly over the head, letting him feel the silky liquid Dean is leaking, just from this, and Castiel moans, his face drawing close of its own accord, letting his breaths wash over the sensitive flesh. 

"Fuck, Cas..." Dean spits out, and one of his hands finds its way into Cas's hair, tangling itself into the roots. "Need your mouth on me, beautiful... Need you to wrap those nice thick lips around me... do it, Cas. Please, go on..."

Cas doesn't need the plea; as soon as he understands what it is Dean is asking of him, he jumps to it, leaning straight in to slide his mouth over Dean's gorgeous cock. Dean swears loudly as he does it, clearly taken by surprise. Cas tries to imagine what this must feel like, having never been on the receiving end. A hot, wet mouth around him, tongue laving at the swollen skin... yeah, Dean must be enjoying this. Castiel hollows his cheeks, taking as much of Dean as he can, tongue flat against the underside. He sucks, hard, and Dean's hips jerk forwards, pushing into him, making him gag, his throat constricting, eyes filling with water. 

"Damn it," Dean mutters, "didn't mean to do that, Cas. You're just so damn good- oh fuck." 

Cas slides his lips off, tongue flicking experimentally at the head, where a gathering of dripping liquid has formed. He wants so badly to taste Dean, to know him in every way possible. He's flavourful, sharp and tangy, with a hint of sweetness - Castiel wonders if he will ever taste anything better in all his lifetime. 

"I like it." Cas says, angling his face towards Dean; he can feel a drop of pre-come dripping down his chin; he scoops it up with his finger, depositing the droplet into his mouth, 'mm'-ing around the burst of flavour.

"Shit Cas..." Dean whispers in response. "You like what?" 

"I like it when you move like that." Cas answers hesitantly, feeling a little embarrassed about describing it. "I-I've never done this before... I want to learn how you like it. I want you to move into me, show me how you want me to... suck you."

Dean groans, and Cas feels his hips jerk again where his hand rests on one thigh. "Cas are you saying... shit _-_ are you saying you  _want_ me to fuck your face?"

Cas hesitates, considering Dean's wording. He supposes that yes, that is an apt description of what he is describing. He nods. 

"God Cas, you're one of a kind." Dean breathes, chuckling very slightly. "Fuck yes, let's do that." 

Cas doesn't hesitate. He dives back in, licking along the underside of Dean's shaft before swallowing him again, taking him deeply. He shifts his position on his knees to get comfortable, and relaxes his throat as best he can. When Dean doesn't immediately begin, Cas taps him on the hip to show he's ready. 

Dean hisses through his teeth, then gives a slow, steady thrust. Cas feels him hit the back of his throat, moaning at the very idea of having Dean so intertwined with him, of feeling every inch of him so deeply. He reaches up to grab the back of Dean's thighs, pulling him in - then, thinking better of it, sliding upwards to grip Dean's incredible, firm ass. Dean pulls out a little way, Castiel's eyes fluttering against the fabric of the blindfold as Dean's cock inches out through the tight circle of his lips. Making sure he gives as little warning as possible - he's noticed Dean likes surprises - he pulls Dean's hips sharply forward, slamming him back into Cas's throat, making Dean cry out. 

After that, Dean's a little less careful. He speeds up his pace, apparently unable to stop himself, winding both hands in Cas's hair, holding him steady as he slides in again and again, Cas humming and moaning around him, having to reach down and grasp his own neglected erection because he thinks he might die if he doesn't. 

Dean moans loudly when he sees, managing to summon enough sense to command Cas to stop touching himself, before pounding in once more, and pulling out quickly. Cas stumbles forwards, landing on all fours, panting heavily, his mouth on fire, still hungry for more. He whines softly; he'd wanted so badly to taste Dean as he spilled down Castiel's throat - why can't he have that?

He suddenly feels strong hands hooking under his armpits and pulling him to his feet. "Come here, you gorgeous fucker." 

Castiel lets himself be manoeuvred - half walking half carried - across the room until he feels the mattress of Dean's bed hit the back of his legs. He falls back onto it, breathing hard, and then Dean is on top of him, one hand sliding under his waist so he's arching into Dean's chest. Dean's other hand goes to the back of his head, and Castiel almost complains until he feels the blindfold being ripped away. Then he wants to cry with joy. Dean's face is more beautiful than he's ever seen it, pupils blown so wide the green is just a mere sliver around endless pools of black, dark desire. He's flushed along those incredible, defined cheekbones, his mouth hangs slightly open, lips moist and swollen. Castiel nearly finishes just at the first glimpse of him.  

He barely gets the chance to see anything more, despite trying for a good few seconds (Dean is _naked_ for crying out loud), but then he's too distracted by the sensation of Dean's strong, sure hand, the same that had removed the blindfold, wrapping around him, holding their close-to-bursting erections against one another in a loose, messily slackened grip, jerking them both hard and fast, both of them crying out with the indescribable feel of it- 

Dean comes first. Somehow, brilliantly, miraculously, Dean comes, his seed soaking the sheets, pouring over Castiel's hip, over his thighs; not that he minds in the slightest. He comes with Cas's name on his lips, face buried in that favourite spot of his, tucked into Cas's neck. 

Cas follows straight after, feeling the surge of overwhelming pleasure building and building until his entire being seems to shut down and he's on a different plane of existence altogether, wracked with unstoppable spasms that leave him exhausted, boneless, utterly spent.

In other words he passes out with the intensity. 

* * *

 

Castiel blinks his eyes open to find himself completely disoriented, lying on a single bed that's not his own, butt naked, kind of... wet in some awkward places, and... oh god. Not alone. 

Castiel tenses, the memory of the last couple of hours flooding back to him like a dam bursting in his brain. He's in  _Dean's_ room.  _Dean's_ bed. Which means - holy mother of God - the presence next to him he can feel must be-

"Y'alright there, Mr Comatose?" A rich, chuckling voice asks amusedly, a voice that Castiel is sure he could pick out of a crowd of screaming people. Goosebumps ripple over his skin again, and slowly he turns to his left, gradually letting his gaze fall on Dean's glorious form, half buried under covers, but so obviously and completely naked. Jesus. "I've never actually seen that happen before!" Dean continues, grinning away, propping himself up on one side, staring down at Castiel. "You came so hard you passed out, Cas! I'm adding that to my list of greatest achievements."

Castiel's mouth opens and closes a few times, but no sound seems to come out. Dean doesn't seem to mind. 

"Jeez, I wonder what'd happen if I fucked you..." Dean's eyes cloud over for a second, he drifts away, biting his lip. "I gotta say, that was damn hot. For a first-timer you sure know what you're doin'."

Castiel manages to gulp down some of his bewilderment. "Th-thank you."

Dean outright laughs. "Okay then, you little faker - it's time to go." Castiel's face falls and Dean laughs again, leaning forwards to scramble out of the bed. "Sorry Cas, I'd love to keep you tied up in here like a little fuckbunny but... gotta keep up appearances, y'know?  _Someone_ went and pretended to be a goddamn Pledge - and don't get me wrong, that turned out pretty great, didn't figure you for bein' into role-play and humiliation and all that shit but whatever, I am so down. The point is, I now have to go and tell the guys I beat you into submission."

Castiel listens half-heartedly to what Dean is saying, finding himself extremely distracted by the sight of him wandering around his room completely naked, picking up clothes where they landed on the floor and on various objects, pulling them on one by one. Dean plucks Cas's underwear down from the lampshade and throws it towards him, winking. 

"Thank you." Castiel mutters, embarrassed. "And... thank you for..." Castiel is about to thank Dean for not telling on him, for saving him from being beaten by the others in the Frat house for lying. But Dean seems to think Castiel did that on purpose somehow... Maybe it's better to say nothing for now. "Thank you for, um, dinner. Th-the other night."

Dean looks at him strangely, pulling on his tank top. Then he laughs. "Sure thing, man. You're a pretty good date."

Castiel chews his lip. There are so many questions he wants to ask Dean, but he's terrified. Things are so much easier when Dean is telling him what to do and say, what he wants. Castiel has no idea what Dean wants right now, whether he should be getting dressed and scarpering too? Is Dean going to want to parade him out to the other Fraternity members, have him make up some story about what Dean did to him as 'punishment'? 

"Dean... what do you want?" Castiel asks lamely, because it's the only thing he can think of to say. 

Dean's looking in a small square mirror tacked to the wall, fingers taming his hair. He turns to Cas, brow furrowed, but there's a smile on his lips. "What any guy wants, Cas." Castiel stares at him blankly. "A good time." 

Castiel only just manages to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. Everything with Dean is so vague. He's inhumanly beautiful, so much so it almost blinds Castiel - but what the Hell is actually going on here? He had zero expectations that Dean would ever sleep with him again, and yet here they are... Castiel wishes Dean would just let him in on the bigger picture. If there even is one. 

"Okay," Dean says, straightening up; his voice has resumed it's alpha male qualities and it goes straight to Castiel's dick, "so I'm gonna go tell them I beat you into unconsciousness with a paddle. It's not that far from the truth after all." Dean smirks at Castiel, winking. "You slip out when you're dressed and all that, the brothers will probably just be hanging in their rooms till I call them for a meeting later. Sound cool?" 

Castiel nods wordlessly. Dean's going to let him stay in here? Alone? Does he allow that with all his conquests? 

"Awesome." Dean replies, striding over to the door. He puts his hand on the knob, turning back to Cas once more, eyes roving over him. Cas is sitting with his knees up, almost defensively; he's still naked, but the covers conceal his dignity at least. He blushes as Dean's intense gaze travels over him. Then Dean grins, almost a leer in his expression. "I will most  _definitely_ be calling you soon, Castiel."

With that, Dean heads out the door, closing it quietly behind him. Cas hears voices in the hall, the other Frat brothers asking what happened. He hears Dean ordering them to stay out of his room, and then some clapping noises, probably high fives. 

Castiel replays the last few moments in his mind. Again with the imaginary 'calling', Cas thinks, shaking his head- he still doesn't have my number.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel is like... the least helpful person to have around in a crisis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I want you to know that I am really enjoying writing this fic, and that means that I am definitely 100% not going to give up on it or leave it stranded. The reason the update is so late this time is just simply because I haven't had the time, I've had a hectic week. Hopefully things will die down and updates will become more regular. 
> 
> If you are familiar with my works you'll know that I am quite good at updating generally speaking. I still don't know exactly how long it will be but hopefully that's not too much of a problem. I have lots of ideas! 
> 
> Anyway, thank you all for your lovely comments, as always they make my day :) thanks for taking the time to read and I'm so glad you are all enjoying it! I know Cas is ;) 
> 
> love to you all xxxx

Castiel pulls on his clothes gingerly, piece by piece, not hurrying because there's no real need. He still feels a little fragile, as though Dean kissed his skin raw, as though he held on so tight that Cas's bones are now malleable and soft. He takes deep breaths, hearing the comforting sounds of footsteps fading in the hall outside, of bedroom doors closing - the Frat boys retreating into their holes.

When Cas pulls on his shirt, he does up half the buttons before remembering that he ripped most of them off. The thought makes him cringe - it's like remembering the actions of an entirely different person. Someone sex-crazed and wild with desire. What does Dean do to him?

Feeling unbelievably self-conscious about walking back to campus in a shirt that exposes his entire midriff, Cas's eyes swivel around the room, desperate for something to cover himself. His gaze falls on a slip of maroon fabric peeking out from under the bed. It looks like a sleeve, and Castiel grabs it, pulling the thing out to reveal what it is. A Psi Delta Alpha hoodie, big, soft and warm. Cas stares at it longingly, bringing it close to his face so he can smell the intoxicating scent of Dean Winchester. He can barely help himself, threading his arms through the item, barely conscious of his actions. He'll return it. Maybe he won't. Maybe he'll just keep it, hide it in his room, put it on when he feels lonely.

Whatever happens, he needs to get out of this room.

He takes a breath to steady himself, trying hard to push the mind-fucking craziness of all that just happened far into the recesses of his brain. He can think about that later, when he's alone. Now he has to concentrate. He starts towards the door, grabbing his bag when he sees it on the floor just in time. Jesus. He can barely function right now. 

He opens the door a crack at first, peering out to see what or who might be lurking in the hall. It's empty, completely, and Castiel lets some of the tension drain out of his body, though he can still hear voices from the entrance hall below. He's going to have to be sneaky, and that's never been a strong point of his. 

He edges out of the door, cringing as he pulls it shut behind him, trying to make as little noise as possible. Looking around him furtively, he starts to inch forwards, eyes fixated on the stairs a way ahead of him, keeping close to the wall so the brothers below don't see him. He's about halfway there when he hears a sound from behind a closed door straight ahead of him, voices and loud footsteps, sounding way too close for comfort. 

"Hold tight, brothers - I'll grab us some beers." 

Castiel's pretty sure it's Milton's voice, but he doesn't hang about to see. Instead, he grabs the handle of the nearest closed door, sends a quick, desperate prayer into the skies above, and hurries inside. He closes the door carefully behind him, listening as footsteps retreat down the stairs, completely unaware of Castiel's presence moments ago - thank God. 

Castiel breathes a sigh of relief; safe for now, he thinks. 

A cough sounds from behind him. 

Castiel freezes, eyes screwing shut, too nervous to turn around. He feels a cold chill run through him, dreading what he might find - who he might find - in this random room he chose. An angry Frat brother is likely. A senior is probable. His quick demise is surely inevitable. 

Castiel turns slowly, and nearly cries when he sees the sight before him. Mouth quirked in an amused smirk, eyebrow raised, sitting on his bed with an energy drink... is Gabriel. He's surrounded by candy wrappers, and there are at least 10 editions of 'Busty Asian Beauties' scattered around him, one of which is open in his hands. It takes a great deal of Castiel's strength not to run and hug him on the spot. 

"Gabriel!" Castiel cries breathily, letting out the breath he'd been subconsciously holding. "God, am I glad to see you."

"Little bro!" Gabriel cries, delighted and amused, clambering off the bed and draining the last of his Red Bull. He pauses, looking Castiel up and down, raising his eyebrows a little at his no doubt dishevelled appearance. "Good to see you too, chuckles! Though little warning might've been nice. I wasn't exactly... prepared for a family visit."

Gabriel winks and gestures, chuckling, at the porno mags strewn on the bed. 

"Oh, ah yes... sorry." Castiel manages, politely averting his eyes.

"Lucky for you I was only in the beginning stages of my marathon." Gabriel assures him, winking again. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure, Cassy old pal?"

Castiel smiles wearily at him. Then he realises he needs to answer. Honestly he hadn't even remembered that Gabriel was a member of this particular Fraternity - that was sheer dumb luck. It's fantastic in a way, as it gives him a place to hide out for a while, possibly even the chance of protection, but how the Hell is he going to explain to Gabriel what he's doing here?

"Um, well I..." Castiel trails off, looking for the words. "I just popped in for... for a surprise visit really."

Gabriel looks unconvinced, but shrugs, and sits down on the bed again, patting the spot beside him for Cas to join. "Y'know, it's weird you should just turn up, I was gonna come find you later. You wouldn't know anything about-" Gabriel cuts off, looking down at Castiel's chest, confused. "Uh, bro? Why are you wearing a Psi Delta Alpha hoodie?"

Castiel blushes beetroot. Fuck. How can he explain? He grabs the first excuse he can think of out of the air. 

"I'm just... I wanted to support my brother. Obviously." Castiel gulps, laughing falsely so that Gabriel smirks at him. "I mean, why else?"

Gabriel narrows his eyes at Castiel, still smiling a little. "Well ain't that a question."

Gabriel laughs quietly, seemingly at a private joke because Castiel doesn't understand why. Gabriel turns and reaches to pull open his bedside drawer, rummaging around in it for a minute before pulling out two cherry red lollipops. He offers one to Castiel, who refuses. His stomach is still in knots; he can't even imagine eating right now.

"Like I was saying Cassio, it's funny you should stop by." Gabriel continues, unwrapping one of the lollipops, depositing it into his mouth without pausing, so the sweet clunks against his teeth as he speaks. His eyes flick up to Cas's again, and there's a devilish glint in them, one that Castiel's seen time and again, usually when he's about to be on the receiving end of one of his brother's notorious pranks. "I had another unexpected visitor a few days ago. Though, admittedly, that one lives with me."

Castiel struggles to keep up with what Gabriel is saying. Truly, it's less than half of his full attention sitting in this room with Gabriel; large chunks of his brain are involved in other activities - replaying the last couple of hours over and over in his mind in vivid detail, and listening to the sounds from out in the rest of the house; are the other Frat boys lurking just outside? Would Gabriel do something if they tried anything? Would Dean?

After a few moments however, Castiel realises that Gabriel is hinting that he knows something. Castiel only has one secret in his (until now) fairly mundane life at present, so he immediately turns his full attention to the conversation at hand. 

"What visitor?" Castiel asks, or rather demands, and then feels foolish.

One can never let on how much they want something with Gabriel. You just can't let him have the upper hand, it's dangerous. Sure enough, he grins around the thin white stick of his lollipop, as if Castiel just gave him a sign of confirmation. 

"As it happens, it was the Alpha of my Fraternity." Gabriel pauses, as if waiting for a reaction. Castiel tries hard not to give him one.

"Surely that's not that strange?" Castiel replies, as nonchalant as he can manage, though his heart pounds incessantly just at hearing who Gabriel is talking about. "Surely you've talked with him lots of times."

Gabriel nods, somewhat sarcastically Cas thinks, if that were possible. "Indeed, Cassy! However, this time, Dean-o had a particularly fascinating request." 

Oh god, Castiel thinks. What the Hell did Dean ask Gabriel? This means, presumably, that Dean knows somehow that Gabriel is his brother. Cas thought it was a little strange when Dean called him 'Castiel' just now before he left, because back in that lab, when Dean asked him his name, Cas had only managed to stutter out the first syllable. Dean must have found out his full name another way. This is definitely not good. Gabriel loves these kinds of situations, lives to expose things like this, to humiliate and embarrass. Cas might be blown away by Dean's beauty, but the Alpha is definitely not smart if he went to Gabriel for... anything.

"Oh?" Cas asks lamely, still trying to sound as though he doesn't care a tuppence, though he knows the game is probably up. 

"Mmmm." Gabriel replies, still grinning. "I was wondering if you might help me to understand it actually..." Gabriel pauses, smiling, seemingly relishing this moment, as if he knows he has Castiel on tenterhooks. "Any ideas why Dean Winchester, the Alpha of Psi Delta Alpha, sought me out one afternoon to ask for my baby brother's number?"

Castiel looks shocked. That's certainly not what he was expecting. Why had Dean done that? Does this mean he actually  _could_ follow through on his promise to 'call'? A tremor runs through Castiel; his phone seems to heat up in his pocket. It's not just a relatively lifeless piece of communication technology anymore, now it's a portal, a window to Dean's world - one way admittedly, so Cas can't reach through himself, but Dean might reach for him at any time. The feeling is incredible.

"Did you give it to him?" Castiel blurts without thinking, needing the answer as fast as possible, hardly caring about anything else. 

Gabriel outright laughs at him, slapping a hand down on Cas's shoulder. "You wily son of a bitch, Cas. Dean Winchester?! Really?"

Castiel's eyes widen; he ducks out from Gabriel's hand. "I-I don't know what you're-"

"Aw, come on little bro! Don't spare me the hairy details." Gabriel urges, grinning away. He simply shimmies closer to Cas when he tries to move away. "How the Hell did you, a snot-nose little Freshman, get your paws on that hunk of jock-strapped mutton-head?"

Castiel blushes bright red, looking away. " _Gabriel."_ It's Cas's warning voice, but he knows Gabriel only finds it amusing. "I'm not... we're not... he's..."

"Lemme guess... you were swooning over his hunky, bared calf muscles as he walked back from..." Gabriel clears his throat, his voice suddenly growing deep and rumbly, "'Football Practice'," he sniggers at his own impression before continuing as normal, "you promptly fainted, damsel in distress style, and he gathers you up in his giant biceps, shoves you on the back of his white stallion and you ride off into the sunset."

Castiel glares at him, scowling. 

"You know," Gabriel clarifies, gesturing with his hands, "to _bone_."

"Oh my God." Castiel groans, burying his face in his hands. "Gabriel,  _no._ And don't even think stuff like that, I'm your brother! It's so gross."

"Oh, so Dean just  _randomly_ wanted your number," Gabriel says sarcastically, waving his hands about in a theatrical manner, "for entirely non-boinking purposes, he just wanted to call you up and say hey -" Gabriel slips back into his gruff Dean impression, "-'Hey bud, just checkin' in, makin' sure you're all packed for class tomorrow- have you got your lunch money, remember to brush your teeth-'"

"Oh my God!" Castiel interrupts loudly. "Gabriel will you shut up, it's not like that, I'm just... I'm just... his tutor! I'm his tutor."

Castiel has no idea where the lie erupted from, but he's damn glad it fell out of his mouth just in time. Gabriel eyes his little brother sceptically. 

"His tutor." Gabriel repeats. It sounds false to Cas's ears. It barely makes sense. But it will have to do. "In what?"

"BioChem." Castiel answers straight away.

He never thought he'd be able to say he was thankful for his many creepy, stalkerish days lurking outside the class where the Frat boys have that lesson. 

"Bullshit." Gabriel states, smirking. "You don't even take that!" 

"Yeah, but it's just... it's all  _science."_  Castiel argues."I studied Biology and Chemistry at school didn't I? Plus Physics... I mean it's  _basically_ the same thing, just... y'know. Yeah."

"Uh huh." Gabriel says, sounding even more unconvinced. "So, explain to me this: why are you, a  _Freshman_ in his  _first semester_ allowed to tutor a senior?!" 

Castiel chews the inside of his cheek. "Um, he's just.. really far behind." The lies form in his mind rapidly, like a cartoon character laying down the tracks ahead of him even as the train speeds along them. "We have the same Professor - Crowley. He knows I'm good at this stuff, and he knows Dean needs a tutor, so... he suggested it. One day after class, Dean came up to me and we talked about it. Me tutoring him, I mean."

"He just walked right up to you and asked you for help?" 

"Is that surprising?" Castiel asks, genuinely interested in the answer. 

Gabriel snorts. "Dean Winchester is the most prideful, egotistical guy I know. You threaten his masculinity, his confidence, anything... you gotta be prepared to get the shit kicked out of you."

Castiel thinks of Dean in the various ways he's known him. Usually dominant and powerful, ordering Cas around, taking all the control - but occasionally... he lets it slip, Cas thinks. Like their first date... when Castiel had seen him there for the first time, watching him by the gate, he looked almost fond. He gets like that too after their... more intimate meetings. Nothing overtly obvious, just a general  _niceness_ , a generosity and kindness you might have to squint to see, but it's there. Like letting Castiel stay in his room today. Cas doubts the thick masking layer of macho-man goes right to the core of him.

"That's strange." Castiel says, his mind elsewhere. Back with Dean. "So..." Castiel says after what he thinks is probably a long enough time to wait. "... _Did_ you give him my number?"

He notices that Gabriel is watching him, yet he's no longer smiling. He chews absently on the straw of his lollipop, having long ago crunched away the remains. He regards Castiel with a certain wariness, something in his expression that vaguely resembles concern. 

"Yeah, I did." He sighs. "Didn't see much harm in it at the time." He pauses. "Cas... you know, this 'tutoring' stuff... it can take its toll on you. I don't wanna lecture you or anything, but... if mutton-brain tries to take advantage of you in any way... if he's asking you to keep your 'tutoring' a secret from people to save his pride... I'm not saying tell him to go fuck himself - 'tutoring' can be damn fun and you're young, get your kicks!" Gabriel grins for a moment, then it slides away, back into that concern. "Just... maybe remember to keep your feelings out of it, huh?"

Castiel says nothing, staring at his hands so he doesn't have to meet Gabriel's eye. 

"I just don't want you to get hurt, little bro. Sometimes you find awesome people who are worth breaking your back over, but well... Dean?" Gabriel pauses, as if wondering how to word something. "All I'm saying is there are a lot of 'tutors' coming up and down those stairs every week." 

Castiel hates himself for the twist in his gut he feels at Gabriel's words. He's jealous. Jealous of these other people Dean brings home, maybe takes to The Roadhouse too. Fucks them in the bathroom and leaves before the awkward 'afterwards-talk'. Castiel hates himself for it, because it means it's too late. His feelings, in some weird, fucked-up, possessive way, are already involved.

Cas swallows, closes his eyes once, then looks up at his brother, grinning, amused. He has to keep this from Gabe. He means well, he does, but he'll only make things worse. "Thanks for the pep talk, Gabe, _really_."

Gabriel laughs, swatting at him with a nearby porno mag. "Alright, alright, go 'tutor' yourself, fucker." 

Cas laughs back, picking up a handful of wrappers and showering them over Gabe's head. "Hey would you pass on a message for me?" Cas asks, jokingly, as Gabriel gets him in a headlock. "Tell Dean to meet me behind the bike sheds, would you?" He puts on a sultry voice for comic effect. "We have a lot of  _material_ to cover."

Gabriel splutters with laughter, letting Cas go and putting his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright!  _Possibly_ I may have jumped to conclusions about you an Dean. I'm your big brother! It's my job to look out for you. To pummel anyone who tries it on with you into the dirt. Y'know, the standard stuff."

Castiel scoffs at him. " _You_ were going to 'pummel' Dean Winchester? For 'seducing' me?"

Gabriel scoffs back. "Hell yeah! What, you think I couldn't? You just wait. When you two are all alone in your tiny room, books spread out around you, the words blurring into each other... Dean will think, 'hey! I know an activity for two people that's way more fun, and Cassy is looking damn good in that sweater vest-'"

"I don't wear sweater vests, you assbutt!"

"Shh." Gabriel chastises, continuing. "He'll lean in to ask you about covalent bonds, and you'll be helpless... he'll have you bare assed, bent over on your desk before you can say 'electrons'."

"Gabriel, for Christ's sake! Does the word  _brothers_ seriously mean nothing to you? Does it have no effect on your sordid mind?!"

Gabriel winks at him. "You just wait, Cassy. You may say you're not doing the horizontal tango with Dean right now, but you will be."

Castiel rolls his eyes. "I'm gonna go. I'll call you soon." 

"Bout time you left, jeez. You've cut way into my porn-time. Gonna have to go double speed now. If I end up chafed it's your fault." This seems to serve as a goodbye from Gabriel, so Cas sighs, smiling and turns to go. 

He's elated, hand on the doorknob, thinking holy shit, he's gotten away with it. He's fooled  _Gabriel_ into believing there's nothing going on between him and Dean. He twists the handle, preparing his dash for the exit. 

"Oh, and Cassy?" Gabriel calls from his position back on the bed where Cas found him. He sounds too nonchalant, and Castiel's heart skips a beat. He turns to Gabriel, wary. His brother winks at him, grinning. "Nice hickey."

* * *

 

Castiel used to think the expression 'waiting by the phone' was just that, an expression. An idiom. A hyperbole. But, as it happens, every night this is exactly what Castiel finds himself doing. He gets in from his last class (not that he's not constantly checking his phone throughout the day too, underneath desks, during way too frequent bathroom breaks, shielded by books and papers) and places his phone upright on his orderly wooden desk, plugged into its charger so there's no way possible he could miss Dean's call or text. 

He then attempts to distract himself with other things, telling himself the phone ringer is turned up to its highest volume, that he won't miss it if it goes. But distraction is impossible. Dean dominates his mind in the same way he dominates the space when he and Cas are alone. Cas is helpless under the force of Dean's presence in his brain, his mischievous expression, his glinting eyes. 

And now, if you can believe this is possible, Castiel has even more to ponder over. He's seen Dean _naked_. Well, almost. Kind of. To be honest he never really got a great look - the first time Dean was... ahem,  _distracting_ him with other things. The second time was when Dean got out of bed to get dressed; he faced away from Castiel the entire time, and then he was dressed so fast it was as though it had barely happened. 

Still though. That toned, firm ass. It's giving Castiel some really bad thoughts. Dean is just so gorgeous. It shouldn't be allowed. Nobody should be this physically perfect, it's making Castiel quite literally crazy. It scares Cas how much he's willing to do to have even the smallest piece of Dean. He finds it hard to think of things he wouldn't do if Dean asked him, if Dean promised him certain things afterwards.

His imaginings are interrupted by a knock on the door, and Castiel immediately stiffens. He detests forced smalltalk with his flatmates. They are perfectly nice; he's just looking for something more interesting. 

Nevertheless, he fixes a smile on his face and walks to the door. He opens it widely, the picture of a friendly housemate, and finds himself staring down at his across the hall neighbour, Becky. She's on the shorter side, with highlighted mousey hair and slightly terrifying intense, darting eyes. She's very nice though; of all his neighbours, Castiel probably finds her the most tolerable. Except for her strange interests in something called 'shipping'. Castiel has had to sit through a long explanation about what it is at least three times, but he mostly tunes out. It sounds very weird and sexual. He's surprised Becky is so eager to share. 

"Hi, Castiel!" Becky sings, giving him a tight smile. She's another one of Castiel's peers who don't have any great fondness for him. She finds him 'intense' apparently. She'd told him this herself. "Um, I just came by to give you these." She shoves the carrier bag Castiel hadn't noticed her holding at him. He takes it, surprised. "I think someone dropped them off for you... there's a post-it with your name on it." 

"Oh." Castiel looks down at the bag, confused. "Thank you, Becky." There's an awkward moment where both of them dither, not knowing what to say. Castiel resists a grimace, and realises this is where the detested 'smalltalk' comes in. "So Becky, how was your d-"

"I looked inside!" Becky blurts, her eyes wide and round. She actually covers her mouth with both hands as if it had spoken without her permission. Castiel raises his eyebrows. "I-I don't know what came over me, I'm so sorry Castiel-"

"Becky. It's fine." Castiel interrupts. People are so strange. Why would Becky even think he would care? What's in here? Something he left in one of his classes, sent on by a Professor? A bag of groceries from a relative? "Honestly, it's fine."

Becky still looks wide eyes. Her cheeks grow warm as Castiel continues to watch her. "I-I shouldn't have snooped." Becky says. "What you get up to is your own business. I'm sorry again, Castiel." 

Before Castiel can respond, Becky is waving hurriedly and dashing across the hall to her own room, ducking inside without another word. Castiel stands, confused, in his open door for a moment, then turns to head back into his own room, closing the door. 

Okay, now he's slightly concerned. He places the bag gingerly down on the desk beside the phone. What's inside here? Is it one of Gabriel's pranks? That seems likely, considering Becky's blushing virgin reaction. Following that train of thought, Castiel sighs, and readies himself. He opens the bag and peers inside. It's just... things. He pulls the first object out.

A bag of microwavable popcorn. 

If '???' could be an emotion, Castiel would be feeling it as he stares at the pink sealed bag. He's pretty sure he's never even tried microwavable popcorn. Who would send him this? 

He sets it down on the desk, thoroughly puzzled already, and reaches into the bag for the next item. 

A pack of red vines. 

Ah, now this one makes a little more sense, Castiel thinks wryly. Anywhere there are sweets, there is an element of Gabriel. Surely. Though this is a terrible prank, if so. Really very poor. Not up to his usual standards. He pulls out the next object. 

This one he can't identify. It's about the size of his palm, perhaps a little bigger. It's kind of cylindrical, but narrows towards one end. The other end has a thinner section with a flat surface attached. It's a purple colour, and feels very smooth to the touch. It looks not unlike a bottle stopper, the kind you put in wine bottles to keep them from going off, except this thing is far too big to fit in the neck of a wine bottle. 

He rolls it over and over in his hand, curious about the object. Perhaps Becky knew what it was, and that's why she was so embarrassed. Maybe Castiel should ask her, he thinks. 

He sets it down for a moment, and reaches for the final object. 

It's a small tube, about the size of his facial cleanser that he keeps in the bathroom. It's gold in colour, and there are three X's on the front of it, like a logo. He peers at the writing to see what it is. 

_Juicy Lube!_

_Honey flavoured lubricant with a mild tingling sensation, for that extra oooh!_ _  
_

_Safe with condoms._

Castiel actually drops the tube in surprise, mouth open. Someone sent him  _lube!?_  Yep, definitely Gabriel then, Cas thinks, groaning internally. If only he hadn't seen that damn hickey. Cas walks to the bathroom absently, peering at his discoloured neck in frustration. It's been three days since he saw Dean at the Fraternity. Three days! It's still as prominent as ever. Not that he didn't  _love_ the idea of Dean doing this at the time, he thinks, but come on. Crowley's expression when he walks into class each day makes him want to crawl into a hole. He kind of likes students seeing it though, he must admit. If only they knew where it had come from. He presses his fingers to the skin, shuddering. 

Suddenly there's another knock at the door. Castiel rolls his eyes, stepping out of the bathroom and plastering his good-guy face back on. 

"Becky, I told you, it's fine-" Cas starts to say as he opens the door.

He freezes, sentence hanging, his eyes wide. Standing outside his door, a bottle of tequila in one hand, a pair of shot glasses in the other, is Dean. He's smiling widely, loving Cas's shocked expression. Castiel can't take him in, he's wearing a thick jacket, something Cas has never seen on him before, his hair is slightly damp - it must be raining. Castiel aches for him; he's standing right in front of him, but somehow it's like the worst possible tease. 

"Who's Becky?" Dean asks, still grinning. "She sounds hot."

Castiel swears he hears a squeal from the other side of the door across the hall. Before Castiel can say another word, Dean is slipping past him, darting into the room, eyes roving around it, drinking it in. He whistles, and Castiel has no choice but to close the door behind them. He presses his back against it, wide eyed, feeling vulnerable and exposed. Dean is in his room. The place where Cas comes every single day to fantasise about him. He feels like there might as well be naked posters of Dean plastered over his walls. Finally, Dean's eyes come to rest on Cas again, gaze travelling up and down his body. 

"Bet Becky doesn't hold a candle to you though." Dean says, and Castiel swears he almost melts.

Castiel tries to force his breaths into being even. "What are you doing here?"

Dean grins, and starts to shrug off his jacket. "Why, you got plans?" 

Castiel looks away. Dean knows he doesn't have plans. Heck, he probably knows that even if Cas did have plans, he'd blow them off to do whatever Dean wanted. Cas just shakes his head. 

"Well then." Dean replies, tossing his jacket into a corner. "Thought we could watch a movie. You down?"

Cas gulps. "I don't... I don't have any movies." 

Dean smiles, holding up a finger. "That, sweetheart, is not a problem." He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a DVD, not in a case, just ripped off the internet by the looks of things. There are two words and a number in roman numerals scrawled on the front of it:  _Star Wars V._

The title is unfamiliar. Castiel tries to appear interested. "What's it about?"

Dean's jaw drops, and Castiel sees amused horror forming in his eyes. " _What?!_ " Castiel wonders what he said wrong, wonders how long it will be before Dean files him under the same 'weirdo' category everyone else does. "Cas, you've never seen Star Wars?!"

Castiel shrugs, shaking his head. 

"Oh my God." Dean says, chuckling a little. "Jeez, if I'd known that I would've..." Dean looks up at Cas for a second, then grins. "Nah, I wouldn't. But still, man! Star Wars is a classic! This is only episode five but..." Dean clearly makes a decision in his mind, and walks up to Cas, taking hold of his shoulders and looking him dead in the eyes. "It's okay, Cas. I will be your guide to the Star Wars."

Castiel can barely breathe with Dean suddenly this close and touching him, let alone respond to that absurd statement. He nods anyway, hoping that will satisfy Dean, and it seems to. Dean lets go, and Castiel just about resists grabbing at him. Dean looks around the room, apparently searching for something. His eyes fall on Castiel's desk. 

"Aha! You got my package, I see." Dean says, glancing at Castiel to give him a sneaky wink. Castiel's eyes widen; _Dean_ sent the package?! Holy shit, if he'd known that... well. Who knows what would have happened. He probably would have tried to smell it or something equally fucking creepy, because that's the person Dean Winchester has turned him into. "So... if you make popcorn, I'll pour the tequila?"

Castiel thinks about protesting. "Tequila...?" 

"Aw, c'mon, I know you like it. I remember, from The Roadhouse." Dean says, and Castiel blinks, surprised Dean remembers such a trivial detail. But yeah, he does like it, he must admit. Castiel smiles a little as Dean waves the bottle at him, and he relents, nodding. "Awesome. Okay, you - popcorn."

As Castiel waits in the communal kitchen, alone, staring at the rotating bag of popping confectionary, he wonders briefly what the fuck he's doing. These thoughts are quickly interrupted by the thought of Dean, slightly drunk, alone with him, sitting on his bed. 

Castiel grins at his reflection in the microwave. All things considered, his night could have gone worse. 


	6. Chapter 6

_Dean Winchester is on my bed._

Castiel is enjoying the movie, truly he is, but despite trying hard to concentrate on Luke Skywalker's plight, he can't help that one thought swimming continuously around in his mind, like an unsettled goldfish circling its bowl. 

_Dean Winchester is on my bed, next to me._

Castiel can't help the involuntary shudder that runs through him. He feels Dean's eyes on him even though he's keeping his gaze glued on the laptop screen. They've placed it on top of a pile of books on his office chair. He wonders what Dean is thinking. Does he really just want to sit here and watch a movie? Castiel can't keep up with what Dean wants. 

"Hey Cas..." Dean whispers, leaning in close. Castiel bites his lip; this is it, he thinks, Dean's going to whisper something filthy in his ear, Cas will turn and he'll have that look in his eyes- "Can you pass the red vines?"

Castiel blinks, still not turning to face him. Dean is way too close for that; Cas thinks he might shrivel up and die with the proximity. "Uh, sure."

He reaches for the candy, beside him on the bed. He passes the crinkling wrapper to Dean silently, the 'zwooom' of lightsabers sounding in the background. Dean chews on a red vine absently, winding it around his finger and snapping off the end with his teeth. Christ, Cas thinks, how can he make  _that_ seem seductive?

Dean had made Cas turn the main light off, meaning the only thing illuminating them is the colour changing mood light Castiel bought for himself as a good-luck-at-college present. The current temperature of the light is a soft blue, slowly dissipating into green. It's comforting in a sense, but the darkness, along with the proximity and the fact there's a bed... it's making Castiel's head spin. 

Dean shuffles on the bed for a second, changing positions, and before Castiel knows it, Dean's pressed up flush against his side. Jesus, is this guy trying to kill him? After a moment of willing his inappropriate thoughts away, Castiel notices Dean moving again, this time actually  _leaning over_ Cas's lap to deposit the red vines back where they had been before. His face comes dangerously close to Cas's semi, thankfully hidden by a layer of fabric and denim, and cloaked by the darkness. 

Finally, after what seems like an absurd amount of time for such a simple task, Dean leans away, getting back into his upright position. Castiel shifts, his toes curling, lips pressing together as the thoughts swim at him once more. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Dean's hand drifts across to rest on his thigh. It's barely there, not even the full weight, Cas is sure, but the way it feels, just lingering there - it's as though its burning a hole straight through Cas's jeans. 

Dean's fingers start to dance innocently up and down an expanse of Cas's leg, tickling softly, and Castiel can't help the mini spasms attacking him each time Dean's fingers stray close to-

"You're kinda fidgety, huh?" Dean says, amused, and Cas blushes. Luckily he's pretty sure Dean can't see it in the dark. 

"Sorry." Castiel whispers in response, and tries to remain still. Dean's fingers continue their movements, relentless. 

"You don't like the movie?" Dean asks, and Castiel turns to him, desperately wanting to reassure him that this is not the case.

"No! No, it's great!" Castiel gushes. "I love the concept, and it's so funny."

Dean scrutinises him, and Cas tries desperately to work out what he might be thinking. Is this situation _actually_ intensely sexual or is it just Castiel's lust-riddled mind, amped up by having Dean so close, so alone? He genuinely cannot tell. 

"Hey, let's do a shot." Dean says, unexpectedly and Castiel has to work to keep up with the change in conversation. 

"Y-yeah, okay." Cas replies, and he turns, leaning forwards, having to get up on his knees to reach for the bottle and shot glasses sitting on his desk. 

He blushes when Dean wolf-whistles at the sight of his posterior, chuckling away. "Get over here you little tease."

Castiel cringes; Dean thinks he's trying to... what? Seduce him? Fuck, as if he could even try. The only one doing any seducing is Dean, and Cas is pretty sure that half of the time he isn't even aware he's doing it. Cas sits back, falling slightly so that Dean has to slip a hand behind his head, stopping him from smacking against the wall. Dean laughs again.

"Jeez Cas, you're not even drunk yet." 

Castiel cringes again. How many times can he embarrass himself in one evening? On the plus side, Dean's arm doesn't seem to want to move, and it rests casually around his shoulders, his fingers brushing gently across Cas's neck. Castiel doesn't even try pouring the tequila on his own, he knows it would just end badly. What with the shuddering and Dean's constant distractions... they'd both end up soaked in the stuff before the shot glasses were even used. 

He thrusts the bottle into Dean's free hand, purposefully not looking up at his gorgeous face. "Um, can you pour if I hold these?"

Dean grins. "Sure, dollface. Hold em steady now."

It actually goes relatively well, they manage between them to fill the shot glasses, Dean keeping the bottle between his rock hard thighs as they both take the shot. 

"Well, what are you gonna toast to, Cas?"

Cas hesitates, wondering what he should say. He glances over at the movie still playing on in the background. "Um, to Luke! May his quest be fruitful and may he remember to use the friggin' force."

Dean outright splutters at that, squeezing Castiel's shoulder so that a drop spills on him, purely because of the excitement. "Oh my God, Cas man, don't ever change."

Cas tilts his head at Dean's words, marvelling at them, watching as Dean tips his own head back and downs the shot. He smiles a little. Did Dean honestly mean that? He's not sure he's ever had anything that nice said to him before. Oops, Dean is staring at him, eyebrows raised, probably wondering (quite rightly) why he still has a full shot glass in his hand. 

Cas downs it quickly, grinning around the familiar burn, and suggests they chase it with honey lube and red vines, which makes Dean laugh again. Cas really likes doing that. I mean, there are things he likes doing to Dean  _more,_ but making him laugh is actually pretty awesome. 

They do three more shots, taking the toasts in turn: Dean toasts to 'Cas and his hot little ass' the first time, which makes Cas blush so hard he wonders whether he'll pass out from all the blood rushing to his cheeks. The next time, Cas is a little more loose, so he toasts to Dean's 'goddamn prettiness' with a grumble in his voice; Dean laughs at him and pulls him close to press a pity-kiss to his temple. Dean takes the last toast, his eyes growing heavy, a darkness gathering in them that immediately gets Castiel's blood pumping to other places. 

Dean's voice slows, deepens, and he leans in towards Castiel, close enough to kiss. "To tonight." 

Castiel raises an eyebrow, feeling like he's _just_ tipsy enough to get a little cheeky. "Tonight? But we're just watching a movie."

Dean smiles at him, nodding, his face in shadow except for a wash of green that illuminates his left eye and forehead. "Yeah well, I think you're really gonna like this next part." 

Dean's voice has dropped to a low purr. Cas's stomach flips violently. "C-cool."

He turns apprehensively back to the screen, watching intently because Dean wants him to see. Wants him to enjoy. He can feel Dean watching him still, as though studying his reaction. His head spins with the tequila, but also with the feeling of Dean's arm wrapped around him, holding him close.

Cas has to admit, though he's somewhat distracted, this is a gripping part of the movie. Darth Vader is torturing Han Solo in order to lure the unsuspecting Luke Skywalker into a trap. Castiel scoops up a few popcorn kernels and deposits them into his mouth, eyes transfixed on the unfolding plot. 

Vaguely, in the background, he hears Dean suck in a breath, and warm, barely there fingers ghost across the back of his neck. Castiel shivers, goosbumps erupting across his flesh, but he doesn't let himself look away from the film. He must do what Dean wants. He doesn't even know why, he just...  _has to._  

And then, like a light going out, the screen just flicks to black. The film has stopped, and Castiel freezes, holding his breath. 

"Wh-what's..."

"Aw man." Dean murmurs, and holy shit- when did his lips get this close to Cas's ear? "Bummer. I guess I might've brought my copy of this that didn't burn properly. By mistake o'course."

His words suggest disappointment, his tone however, sounds anything but. Castiel's eyes flutter, feeling Dean seemingly everywhere around him. His lips are so close, almost but not quite pressing against his neck, his breaths pouring over Castiel's skin. 

"Th-that's a... shame." Castiel manages to say, though he's aware he sounds like a wanton mistress from a bad porno. "What shall we do?"

Dean smiles against his throat, nipping slightly at the skin there. "Gee, I don't know, angel. Guess we'll just have to find a way to... entertain ourselves."

Castiel can't help himself, he whimpers very slightly, but it's enough. Dean breaks the facade, his lips sliding up Castiel's throat to kiss and mouth at his ear, his other arm winding around Cas's waist, maybe to feel him shuddering in his embrace. 

Castiel tries to turn towards him, tries to capture that incessant, perfect mouth in a kiss, but Dean pulls away sharply, a look in his eyes that tells Castiel he's about to be told how to play this. 

"Come here." Dean commands, and Castiel follows, letting Dean arrange him until he's straddling Dean's lap. "Good." Dean takes Cas by the upper arms, and looks deep into his eyes. "I don't kiss, Cas." He says firmly, and Castiel stares, confused. That wasn't what he was expecting. "Not on the lips. What we have goin' here is good, let's not complicate it, alright?"

Cas nods, biting his lip a little. Why does Dean's statement seem so strange to him? Now that he thinks about it, he can't remember a time Dean has kissed him... can he? 

"Okay." Dean continues, his tone more playful now, but still firm. Castiel's train of thought is thrown way off track. "Now, Cas, you're gonna do as I say, aren't you?" 

Cas nods emphatically, not trusting himself to speak without moaning. 

"Good. And you trust me? I'm not gonna hurt you, Cas."

Cas furrows his brow. He would never have even considered the idea that Dean would hurt him, not really. Of course he trusts Dean. He's always laid out the rules of his 'games' very clearly, and Castiel has always been well onboard. And it's been incredible both times. 

"Of course." Castiel replies, hoping Dean tells him to do something soon; he's getting a little crazy with want.

Dean quirks a smile at him. He leans forwards, his mouth level with Cas's neck. He presses his lips to Cas's prominent collarbone, just visible beneath his t-shirt. Cas leans into the touch, gasping, involuntarily moving his hips, pressing his semi-erection into Dean's crotch. Dean moans a little, not stopping the kissing, and Cas feels two hands sliding under his shirt. Dean's fingers move slowly over Cas's chest, rucking up the material of his grey t-shirt until it's bunched under his arms. 

"Hands up, genius." Dean says, a smile in voice, and Castiel obeys. Dean slips the t-shirt up over his head, throwing it aside. His face is level with Cas's now, both of them staring into each other's eyes. "Hi." Dean says with a smile, and Cas's eyes flutter.

Dean ducks back down to kiss the skin covering Castiel's chest, sinking lower this time, one arm wrapped around Cas's waist so he doesn't fall backwards, his tongue sweeping over the lines of Cas's ribcage. 

"D-Dean..." Castiel stutters. Dean looks up, curious.

"Mmm?" He asks, and it only serves to make Castiel wilder. 

"Need you..." 

Dean laughs against his skin. "Need me, huh? What do you need me to do, Cas?"

Castiel just shakes his head, eyes closed, hoping it conveys the message that he couldn't possibly say right now. 

"How bout you take off your jeans then, huh? I miss that cute little ass of yours."

Castiel doesn't need telling twice; he shifts up onto his knees, still straddling Dean - who actually falls back a little to watch - and begins methodically undoing his belt. 

"Jesus..." Dean practically hisses, eyes fixated on Castiel's hands as they unbutton and unzip his fly. "You know how to put on a show, huh?"

Castiel doesn't have time to respond, he's too busy working his jeans down his thighs, using Dean's shoulder for support as he wriggles his legs all the way out of them. Dean doesn't seem to mind; in fact, he places his hands on Cas's waist, stroking up and down, careful not to jog him. 

Castiel sits back in position on Dean's lap once he's divested himself, clad now in only his ordinary white briefs. He feels a niggling sensation at the back of his mind, as though he's secretly yearning for something, but he can't remember what. Dean's surveying him now, his eyes roving over Castiel's body like it were a juicy hamburger, which is absurd, Cas thinks. He's nothing special. 

Cas studies Dean in return, relishing the chance to gaze unabashed at the godlike creature before him. If only he could see past the layers of clothing that hide Dean's- Holy shit, that's it! That's what he's missing, he thinks. This is the thing he's been craving. He can't help himself, if he doesn't ask, it will burst free of his lips and God he  _needs_ this-

"Dean, I need to see you." Castiel blurts, and an image of Becky doing a similar thing infiltrates his mind for a moment. He pushes Becky out of his brain. "Will you... I mean, will you..."

Dean stares at Cas, amused. "Will I...?"

He seems perfectly relaxed and it's not  _fair._ Castiel is basically a trembling mess already. Yes, fuck it, he does  _need_ this from Dean, needs at least this ounce of vulnerability from the guy or he's not going to be able to relax whatsoever. 

"I need to see you. Naked. Please. It's... it's actually killing me."

Dean grins at Castiel's wording, though Cas wasn't joking. He's genuinely worried for his well-being if Dean refuses. Instead, Dean leans forwards. His arms wind around Castiel's waist like vines, pulling him in tightly with an impossible strength, pressing them flush against each other, chests touching. Dean stares up into Castiel's pleading eyes, a wry smile on his face. 

"Is that what you really want, Cas?" Dean intones, his voice low and sultry. "You want that real bad?" 

Castiel groans, rolling his hips a little. "Fuck. Yes. So much. So much, Dean."

Dean licks his lips, his pupils blossoming like dark flowers. "Okay, Cas. I'll give you what you want."

Cas's heart surges. He's so hard now it's starting to take its toll, he needs skin on skin contact. Needs Dean's touch. His naked, naked touch.

"But..." Dean continues, and Cas's eyes widen. Of course there's a condition. "...Bit by bit. And you gotta earn it, Cas. You gotta make me happy. Then I'll give you what you want."

Cas moans in approval of this plan. He nods frantically and rolls his hips again, eager to get started. 

"First thing I want you to do, Cas- take your underwear off. Can you do that?"

"Yes." Cas replies in a hoarse voice.

He does it quickly, the tequila helping him to feel less embarrassed about being completely naked in front of Dean, yet again. 

"And the socks. Good," Dean purrs as Cas complies, moving his hands down Cas's back and over his hips until they're resting on his thighs, "alright, you wanna take of my shirt, Cas?"

Cas is pretty sure his dick jumps just at the very idea; he immediately goes for it, grabbing the hem of Dean's shirt, and then fumbling with it, gasping, as Dean's hands travel upwards towards his groin. Castiel tries to concentrate, tries to pull the offending item off of Dean, but it's difficult, particularly when Dean's fingers brush teasingly over his erection, making him cry out. 

Eventually he succeeds, and Dean lifts his arms, allowing himself to be stripped of a t-shirt. Cas throws it aside, studying the new expanse of perfect, muscled flesh in awe. He hadn't even noticed before, but Dean has a tattoo, inked onto the left pectoral muscle - it looks like a star surrounded by a circle of flames. Castiel runs his fingers over it, mesmerised. 

"You like my tat?" Dean asks, breaking Cas out of his reverie.

He realises his actions are possibly a little strange, considering what they're in the middle of. He's never seen a tattoo up close though, he's just never been around anyone that has one. Gabriel often jokes that he has one on his ass, but Castiel sincerely doubts this is true.

"Yes." Cas breathes, studying. "It's beautiful."

Dean chuckles. "Okay, weirdo. You wanna see if I have any others?"

Castiel's eyes dart to his, wide and suddenly back on track. What's he doing? There's time for all this stupid tattoo studying anytime, now he is on a mission, to get Dean Winchester fully naked in his bed. He will succeed. 

"Yes!" Castiel says a little too eagerly. Dean laughs. "I mean, what shall I do next, Dean?" 

"Well, seeing as you're so good at entertaining me..." Dean begins, and Castiel holds his breath, nervous. "How about we keep the show goin'?" Dean leans in to whisper in Cas's ear. "Touch yourself, Cas."

Castiel's bones seem to become jelly, and he hesitates, Dean's words sliding through his mind like treacle. "R-really?"

"Yeah. C'mon, I wanna see." Dean says, and leans away, watching closely. 

Cas blushes, feeling shy, but he does as Dean asked, reaching down and grasping hold of his own erection, so heavy and familiar in his hand. He can feel the slight dampness, and knows that he's leaking, possibly wetting Dean's own jeans, though Dean doesn't seem to care. 

"C'mon Cas, show me how you like it." Dean says, and he smirks.

Castiel locks eyes with him, and starts to move his hand. It's not going to take much, Cas thinks, not with Dean right there beneath him, shirtless and looking predatory. Cas focuses on Dean's chest, stares hard at that tattoo, closing his eyes when he feels overwhelmed with the sensation. 

"Fuck Cas," Dean mutters, and sucks a breath in through his teeth, "you look so damn good right now. You do this a lot, huh?"

Cas thinks about Dean's words. He certainly does  _now,_ he thinks. Now that Dean's waltzed into his life he can't seem to stop doing this; one could say he was something of an expert by this point. Castiel just nods, breathing heavily. He's getting closer, he can feel it, so he grips the base of his cock, squeezing hard, willing his impending orgasm away. He has to screw his eyes shut, but it works. Just. 

"Fuck." Dean mutters again, sounding like he very much enjoyed that performance. Cas can't help himself, he meets Dean's lustblown eyes head on, and continues to work his hand up and down, imagining Dean's hand, Dean's mouth... fuck. "You think about me when you do this, Cas? When you're all alone?"

Cas screws his eyes shut again, letting Dean's words wash over him in waves. He nods. "You're... all- all I think about, Dean. Think about you on top of me, inside me, touching me..."

His voice is breathy with exertion, but Dean seems to get the idea. "Fucking hell, seriously Cas? You could give  _me_ a run for my money with that mouth o'yours." Dean's hands come to rest on Cas's, slowing his movements. "Alright, shit you definitely earned this, Cas. You can stop now."

Cas's hand falls away, but now he feels like he's on fire. He needs to be touched, he can't deal with the sensations. He feels himself being manoeuvred artfully, Dean's hand careful not to stray too close to certain areas. He's deposited on the bed, no longer straddling Dean, which is a damn shame. Cas watches, blearily, as Dean stands from the bed, wondering what's going on. Then he realises. 

Dean's hands are quick to unbutton his jeans, pulling them off faster than Cas might have thought possible. Dean's short blue boxers are obscenely tented, a wet patch clearly visible where Dean must be  _leaking._  The only sound Castiel manages at the sight is a strangled one. He struggles to sit up, to go to Dean, but the older boy has other ideas. He crosses to Castiel's desk, staring at the contents, puzzled, until he sees something by his feet.

Smiling, he bends down to pick it up. It's the bottle of lube, and he holds it up, triumphant. "Now we're talkin'." 

He crosses to Cas, climbing back onto the bed and looming over him, hooking an arm around his waist and moving him (one-handed! - Castiel can't help but be impressed) until he's laid out flat, head on the pillow. Cas wants to ask what he can do to get that damn underwear off of Dean, but he doesn't, he's too distracted by what Dean is doing. He's knelt in between Castiel's legs, having instructed him to spread them, and now he opens the bottle in his hand, squeezing out a generous amount of lubricant into his palm. 

He rubs his hands together ferociously, occasionally catching Cas's eye to smile mischievously. 

"What are you gonna-" Cas starts to say, but he is interrupted by himself, crying out at the feel of Dean's slippery hands smoothing the gel-like substance over his hipbones, his thumbs stroking over the skin of his inner thighs, right at the top of his groin. 

Cas moans, helpless- why has he never experimented with lube before? It's glorious; he imagines this is what it would be like to have Dean's tongue sweep across him here- warm, wet, leaving unbelievable sensations in its wake. A few seconds pass, Dean still stroking the stuff over him, and then the tingling sensations (the same that the bottle had promised, Castiel recalls) begin. Like minuscule vibrations stirring his nerves into life, Castiel wriggles against the sensations, whimpering and muttering, though he's not sure what he's even saying. 

Then Dean's hands slip down and grasp hold of his cock; Castiel near-shouts with the feeling, and he hears Dean swearing under his breath. Dean's moist, gelled hands slide over his erection mercilessly, applying just the right pressure, his thumb rubbing against the head. Castiel moans Dean's name over and over, reaching for him, finding his shoulders and gripping them tightly, pulling him in so that Dean's practically on top of him. Dean buries his face in Cas's neck, biting at the skin there; he'll leave a fresh mark, but Castiel doesn't give a fuck. 

All of a sudden one of Dean's hands are sliding lower, passing over his balls, which makes Castiel buck into Dean's hand. One errant finger seems to continue its quest, sliding further down, underneath Castiel, until it brushes over a sensitive spot. 

"Oh!" Castiel cries, and jerks away a little, more in surprise than anything. He looks at Dean, completely breathless and wanton, his eyes wide. "What are you-"

"Cas," Dean mutters softly; his hands have stopped their movements, he brings their faces extremely close, "you trust me, right?"

Cas bites his lip, unsure. He does, yes, he already said he did. But that...? He's not an idiot, he knows how this stuff works, he just... he was unprepared. He's nervous. What if he doesn't like it? Isn't it supposed to hurt? 

"Cas," Dean says again, sensing his hesitation, "I'm not gonna hurt you. If you don't like it, we'll stop. That's the agreement, right? You remember your word?"

Castiel thinks back, vaguely recalling Dean telling him this the first time they spoke. What was that word? Croquette? Croissant? Oh yeah! "Croatoan?" 

Dean nods. "Are you saying it now? You want me to stop? It's okay if you do, Cas."

Cas feels Dean's hands starting to retreat from their positions and he panics. "No!" Cas cries, clamping his own hands down on Dean's, holding them in place. "No, I don't want to stop. I trust you."

Dean studies him for a good long minute, checking for signs of coercion, and then he smiles. "Good. Now just relax, alright? Remember, I'm not gonna hurt you, and this is gonna feel..." Dean lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "It's gonna feel pretty damn awesome."

Castiel smiles back, nodding. Dean's hand, the one on his dick, starts to move again; Castiel's eyes roll back in his head, his hands reaching for Dean's shoulders once more, sliding into his hair. This time, when Dean presses a gentle finger against Cas's entrance, he's prepared. He repeats Dean's words in his mind, and strangely enough, they do put him at ease. He knows Dean will stop if Cas wants him to, and that's reassuring. He relaxes as much as he can, concentrating on the peculiar sensation of Dean's finger sliding over his hole. 

It actually feels... pretty good. It's a different, sharper sort of pleasure, but Castiel likes it, and actually shifts his hips a little, allowing Dean to get a better angle. Dean moves his hands away for a split second, and Cas is about to complain, but then he sees that Dean is just reaching for more lube. In no time, he's back on track, and Castiel 'mmm's as the tingling sensations of the lubricant shiver against his hole. 

That's when Dean's finger presses against him, softly. Cas tries not to seize up, tries to stay relaxed, focusing on the incredible sensation of Dean's hand, jerking him gently, as he pushes a slippery finger inside. It doesn't hurt, and for that Castiel is relieved. It's actually a... really good feeling, Cas thinks, eyes fluttering, as Dean slowly works his finger in and out. Dean is  _inside_ him right now - it feels good, it feels right and like he's filling a space he wasn't even aware was empty. 

The honey lubricant tickles against his inside, making his muscles clench. "Fuck, Cas, you're so damn tight." Dean says in a strained voice, and when Cas looks up at him, he can see Dean is really enjoying this. His big, full bow-lips are bitten and red, his eyes trained on the place where his own finger disappears inside Cas. "God, just imagine, Cas... One day..." Dean casually adds another finger to the first, and Castiel feels a slight burn as he's stretched open wider, but if anything it just makes the feeling more pleasant. He thrust his hips against Dean, pushing himself down onto Dean's fingers, hungry for more, for deeper, faster thrusts. " _Fuck_ , do you even know what you're doin'?!"

Dean seems to have lost some of his own control, and he suddenly growls, pressing himself against Cas as he pushes his fingers inside, his hips twitching as though wanting to thrust. Cas can feel Dean's own erection through his underwear, brushing against his leg every now and then. Dean's other hand slips free of Cas's dick, allowing him to press almost fully against Cas, to lean over him, and Cas can't imagine anything hotter. "Goddamn it Cas, one day I'm gonna fuck you so hard," Dean says gruffly, eyes slipping closed every few seconds, "bury myself so deep in this tight, perfect little ass of yours- would you like that, huh?"

Cas cries out, his hands gripping Dean's back, nails digging in, scraping down Dean's bare skin. He hadn't even realised the extent of his own desires, but _yes,_ holy shit he wants Dean inside him. He wants Dean to fill him up, to thrust into him, long and deep. He wants Dean to fuck him senseless, until he's completely wrecked, and he wants Dean to come inside him, to feel that happen. 

"Yes, please, please Dean, God yes."

Dean adds a third finger, his other hand slipping free of Cas's dick, gripping his hip instead as he finger-fucks Cas, hard and fast, Cas moaning and clutching him. "Yeah, that's it baby, you really like this, huh? I knew you would."

Dean crooks his fingers, smiling to himself, and Castiel wonders why until the world whites out around him, Dean's fingers brushing over something inside him that he never knew was there. Intense, blinding pleasure ricochets through him, and he swears, loudly. " _Fuck!"_

Dean chuckles at him, and then does it again. His fingers work in and out, massaging against that sweet spot every time, until Castiel is writhing, groaning, begging him for more. Dean's other hand creeps back to Castiel's neglected penis, and it takes just a few strokes until Cas is coming, hard, splattering over Dean's abs, soaking himself in the process.

Cas falls limply into the mattress as Dean removes his fingers. He smirks at Cas's dishevelled state. "Y'know, I don't think I've heard you swear before." He grins down at Cas, who very nearly scowls at him for teasing. "Is that a 'throes of passion' only thing, or what?"

Cas just groans in response. "That... was incredible."

Dean coughs, looking very slightly awkward. "Uh, thanks."

Castiel sits up slightly, propping himself with his elbows. Dean is sitting back on his haunches, one eyebrow raised, questioning.

"So..." Dean begins feigning nonchalance. "You still wanna get me naked, or...?"

Castiel's cock twitches and it almost hurts to be aroused again so soon. "Fuck yes." He says, and he dives for the waistband of Dean's underwear, growling a little when Dean catches him by the wrists, stopping him. 

"Woah there." He says, chuckling. "Just so you know, I had a plan... y'know for what you could do to get me all de-clothed, but uh, we got a little side-tracked there... so, another time, maybe."

Dean winks at him, and Castiel tries to struggle out of his grip. Eventually he stills, thinking better of it, looking Dean in the eye. If Castiel's theory is correct, then Dean is pretty fucking aroused right now, and he's just trying to hide it. Cas bets he could gain some control of the situation right now, y'know, if he plays his cards right. 

"Well..." Castiel says in response to Dean, choosing his words carefully. "...I guess I'll just have to think of some... other way, to charm you out of your underpants." Dean's eyelids flutter, and Castiel doesn't miss it. He smirks. "If you just take them off, Dean... I swear I'll show you how much I've earned your nakedness."

Dean seems to hesitate for a minute, debating, but finally he lets Cas go. "Goddamn it, I'm way too far gone to protest, Cas." 

He kneels up, slips off his underwear and throws it aside, revealing his large, flushed, fully erect penis - hard for him, for Cas, again. Cas nearly drools at the sight. Instead, he crawls towards Dean, taking him by the shoulders and gently persuading him into position, laying back on the bed where Cas had been moments ago. Dean complies willingly, seemingly too desperate to argue, and lies back, spread out like a delicious buffet. 

Cas wants to start at the top and work his way down, to kiss every inch of skin, to mouth at every sensitive spot and find all of the places that make Dean squirm, but he doesn't want to tease Dean. He wants to please him, and Dean is in need of being pleased. 

Dean shifts impatiently, propping himself up to look at Cas. "Cas," he growls, "I don't wanna sound like a diva, but I am going to explode unless you touch me right the fuck now."

Cas blushes, making sure to save those glorious words for later, and swoops down, parting Dean's legs and crawling in-between them, his mouth close to its target. He reaches up with one hand to push against Dean's chest, sending him collapsing back onto the bed, and starts to work his mouth over Dean's shaft. He starts with long, drawn out licks this time, from bottom to top, lapping at the head every so often where a pool of pre come has formed. Dean moans, appreciating, and his hands reach down to tangle in Cas's hair. 

Cas takes Dean into his mouth, remembering to relax his throat, sucking hard around him so that Dean is shaking, making small, shallow thrusts into him, seemingly unable to stop himself. Cas moans in encouragement, working his head up and down in time to Dean's movements. Dean shouts, cursing, telling Cas he's amazing, that he feels so damn good- and then, in no time at all, he's spilling his seed down Cas's throat, Cas swallowing every last drop, eyes fluttering wildly because that was one of the hottest things he's ever experienced.

Dean moans again, utterly spent, and pulls Cas up by his underarms. They lie together for a short while, side by side, out of the covers, both completely naked. Cas keeps sneaking glances down at Dean's incredible body - he can't help it - and Dean swats at him after a while, grinning. 

"Little perv." 

* * *

 It's not like Cas was expecting Dean to  _stay._ I mean, he supposes, in retrospect, he knew that this moment would come. That Dean would have to leave. It doesn't mean he has to like it.

"So I'll call you, alright?" Dean says, shrugging on his coat. 

"Yeah,  _okay._ " Cas replies, playing with a loose thread on the blanket he's using to cover his dignity.

The sarcasm in his tone must have come out more prominent than he anticipated, because Dean pauses, looking at Castiel, amused. 

"Problem?"

"N-no," Castiel assures him, blushing, "it's just... you always say that. Although I do have it on good authority that you actually  _do_ have my number - talking to Gabriel is always a terrible idea by the way."

Dean laughs. "Aw, what are you mad I didn't call?"

Castiel shrugs, not looking at Dean. He senses Dean moving towards him though, sitting down beside him on the bed. 

"To be fair Cas, the last couple o'times we, uh, met up, we both found far more interesting ways than a phone call." Dean winks at him, and Castiel can't help smiling a little, remembering. "The fake-Pledge episode was a personal favourite of mine."

Castiel smiles, shrugging as though it were nothing. As though it didn't nearly get him killed. 

"And Gabe?" Dean continues, laughing again. "Yeah, I suppose that wasn't the smartest move. I was just so proud of myself for figuring out he was your brother."

Castiel side-eyes him. "How...  _did_ you find that out?"

Dean grins again, sitting beside Cas for a moment. "Well, after I had to run out on our date the other night at The Roadhouse- sorry again about that by the way, big drama with my Dad and my little brother... never mind. After that, I realised I actually forgot to get your number," Dean chuckles, "and it was gonna be like a week till I saw you again, so I went to the college receptionist and charmed your full name outta her." 

Castiel nods, understanding. "And you were able to say that I had Physics on Tuesdays and Thursdays-"

"At two, exactly. So she gave me your name, and I was like, hey! There's a guy with a weirdo first name and the same last name in my Frat! I asked the receptionist if you had a brother, and... yeah."

"Couldn't you have just asked the receptionist for my phone number? It's on my college record." Castiel wonders, cocking his head. 

Dean smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, to be honest, I kinda wanted to mess with Gabe a little. He's pranked all of us so many times it's not even funny. So I just wanted to... y'know... plant the idea that..."

"...that you might be 'boinking' his little brother?" Castiel finishes. 

Dean laughs, looking caught out. "Yeah, I guess when you say it like that it doesn't sound  _great..._ "

Castiel laughs. "I think it's hilarious. Gabriel needs to be taught a lesson. Or six." Castiel remembers something suddenly. "Oh, but I should warn you, I bumped into him at the Frat house and I may have told him I was tutoring you. To keep him off track. He doesn't believe me, like at all, but still. If he asks..."

Dean laughs, thumping Cas on the back, and then rubbing the spot when he realises Cas isn't wearing clothes. "Nice." Dean sighs, smiling, and looks around the room. His gaze lands on the desk again, and he seems to remember something. "Oh yeah, I actually am gonna call you this time... I have something I wanna... ask of you." 

He winks, standing up, and strides over to grab the tequila bottle he brought. At the last minute, he changes his mind, turning to Cas and smiling. "You keep it. Present for you. I know you like it, and the brothers will just drink it all if I take it." 

Cas smiles at him. "Oh, uh, thank you."

Dean walks to Cas, leaning down and kissing him briefly on the forehead. "Thanks for lettin' me stay, kid. I had fun." He winks again. "Adios."

He walks to the door then, and Castiel's heart seems to run after him, clinging to his shoes like a limpet. Couldn't he just stay? Nobody has to know. But Dean waves once, then ducks out of the door. Cas sighs, flopping back onto his bed. How weird would it be if he jerked off to the thought of everything that just occurred? 

Fuck it, he's going to do it anyway. 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you asked Castiel how his week was, he probably wouldn't know what to tell you. What counts as 'sexting' exactly, anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry again for the late update, I actually stayed up till 2am writing this chapter on Sunday but I LOST EVERYTHING and had to rewrite it. I'm an idiot; hope you're all well. 
> 
> ((To make up for it, I'm going to post two chapters today hell yeah).

For a good few days after the third, yes _third_ incident of mind-numbingly incredible, actual sex with Dean Winchester, Castiel is in a pretty damn good mood. He gets up each morning with a smile on his face, immediately heading to his bathroom mirror to check the coloration of the impressive lovebite on his neck, and grinning when he sees it's still visible.

He heads to his classes cheerily, in a post-sex haze, barely registering the world around him. His mind provides constant images of a gloriously naked Dean for him to pour over, to deliberate on the details of.

He even waves to Becky in the hallway between their rooms now instead of trying desperately to sneak out without him seeing her. The rich, blooming colour that floods her cheeks each time their eyes meet would normally make Castiel want to die of humiliation - her face just _screams_ 'I-totally-heard-you-yelling-Dean's-name-from-across-the-hall-while-he-finger-fucked-the-daylight-out-of-you' - but instead it just makes him laugh. She's almost certainly jealous, who wouldn't be?! He had _Dean_ on top of him the other night.

Castiel grins to himself, one hand supporting his chin. Yeah, life is pretty good right now.

" _CASTIEL!_ " A loud, angry, British voice is right by his ear suddenly, jolting him out of his dream-world. Castiel jumps on his stool, realising where he is, what's going on, and sees too late that Professor Crowley is leaned over his desk, hands planted firmly either side of Cas's books, bright red in the face. Oh, fuck. "Ah, decided to _grace_ us with your presence again, have we?"

Castiel stares at Crowley in horror, his eyes wide. "I'm so sorry, Professor, I was-"

"Slacking. Yes I can bloody well see that." Crowley says harshly, and he lifts his hands off the desk. "Well, now that you've deigned to flutter back on down to the earthly plane, why don't you do us all the honour of solving the problem on the board?"

Castiel tries to breathe evenly. It's not the end of the world, Crowley is just a man, he's not that scary. Cas needs to get a grip. He watches as Crowley saunters back on over to the board, gesturing at the question he's written up there in his usual cursive.

He rolls his eyes when Castiel doesn't immediately answer. "For Christ's sake, come on, you've kept us all on the edge of our seats."

Castiel swallows, nodding, and squints at the board.

_An aluminium rod is 60.0 cm long at 0°C. It expands by 1.1 mm when heated to 80°C. Calculate the coefficient of linear expansivity of aluminium._

Right, Castiel thinks, attempting to think calmly. Don't panic. Just because you understood less that 40% of that, doesn't mean you can't work it out.

That's the whole thing with the academic subjects - working stuff out bit by bit until you can grasp it. He looks down at his notes for help.

There's nothing there.

Castiel's eyes widen in alarm, looking down at the blank page of his notebook in sheer horror. Not a single note has been written there, nothing! There's a title - Aluminium and Properties \- and a date, but absolutely nothing else.

He flips back to the page before that, and the one before that - it's all exactly the same! Oh holy fuck this is so, so much worse than he thought. Dean has rendered him a brain-dead zombie. He must be just showing up to class, not listening to a word anyone says, doodling pictures of Dean's face mid-orgasm in the margins. He scribbles one such diagram out quickly now, not even pausing to appreciate the accuracy of his own artwork.

Slowly, he lifts his eyes to Crowley, who is now looking unbelievably impatient, and more than a little pissed off. "I-I'm sorry, Professor. I-I, um..."

Crowley lifts his brows, waiting for a moment as Cas trails off, blushing. "Inspiring." Cas looks shame-faced at his empty page. "See me after class, Castiel. Meg, would you like to crack this one?"

Castiel doesn't listen to Meg's answer, though he does hear her evil little snicker at his expense. What is happening to him? Castiel's never been called after class, not ever. He's always been the clever one, the opposite of a troublemaker. A nerd, basically. It's all he knows! What is Crowley going to do to him?! If he quizzes him on anything from the last couple of weeks Cas won't know a thing. This is really, really bad.

* * *

 

Castiel stays seated as his classmates file out cheerily, Meg shooting Castiel a smug little look before she heads out of the door. He barely even knows that girl; he was partnered with her in the obligatory 'introductory' lesson where they had to 'get to know one another'. Castiel got the feeling, watching Crowley's expression as he observed them all awkwardly talking to each other, that the Professor was doing it as some kind of sadistic joke.

Meg had informed Castiel right out that they couldn't possibly be friends, he was a classic nerd - a cute one though, she assured him - and that she was now an official Sorority girl. For some reason, Castiel can actually remember the name of Meg's sorority. Theta Phi. He remembers simply because she showed him the official handshake, laughing as she did it and telling him straight out how stupid it all was, and that she was there to 'shake up those goody-goody bitches'.

Castiel decided right away he didn't like her. The opinion still stands.

Crowley is seated at his desk, his pen moving over a stack of papers. He's not paying Castiel any attention, and Cas wonders if he might just be able to slip away, unnoticed, forgotten.

No such luck. A few minutes of agonising anticipation, and then Crowley beckons to him, peering up at Castiel as though he were barely worth the full force of his gaze.

Castiel gulps, shoving his books into his bag, and makes his way over to the desk, standing before him.

"Well, Castiel." Crowley says, leaning back in his chair and pocketing his fountain pen. "It appears my star student has become an ignoramus."

Castiel blushes. "I'm so sorry, Professor, you're right I have been slacking-"

"Shut up." Crowley says tiredly, and Cas does. "Castiel, I'm not a moron, despite what you lot say about me outside of this classroom. A student like you doesn't suddenly just 'become' stupid. No, that's a gift one has to be born with, I'm afraid."

Castiel forces himself to look Crowley in the eye, trying to be polite.

"You've been doing extremely well in my class, Castiel. Your grades were outstanding." Crowley pauses, sighing. "It doesn't take an genius - though here I am - to see that something's happened for you to allow yourself to slip this way."

Castiel holds very still, trying to clear his mind, worried that if he thinks the reason too loudly, Crowley will keep barrelling down this same absolutely correct pathway of thought and work out exactly what's going on. Though of course that's ridiculous. Nobody in their right mind would even believe what's going on.

"So," Crowley says, when Cas doesn't respond, "what is it, then?" He pauses, scrutinising Cas's clothing, his crumpled shirt, his darkly rimmed eyes. He's not getting enough sleep, these days. "A death in the family, perhaps?"

Castiel says nothing, hoping that maybe Crowley will just accept this explanation if he doesn't deny it.

"Hmm, no." Crowley says at length. "Can't be. I've heard no blubbering." He pauses again, that often impossibly-accurate stare seeming to pierce through his skin, worm through him, uncovering all his darkest secrets. And well, he only has one. " _Oh_."

Crowley sounds disappointed, even a little disgusted. "What?" Castiel can't help but ask, heart hammering. "Look, honestly Professor, it's all me, I've just- like you said, I've been getting distracted, slipping up, not focusing on my studies-"

"It's a _romance_." Crowley interrupts, completely ignoring Cas's feeble protests at innocence. Yep, that's definitely disgust Castiel is hearing. "God, no matter how many times this happens to my best students, I'm always disappointed." He sighs.

Castiel has to stop this. He can't have his Physics Professor knowing he's gone gooey eyed over someone to the extent it's affecting his grades! And that's putting it mildly. "Professor Crowley, really I'm not-"

"Oh do shut it, Castiel. Like I said," he jabs two thumbs towards himself, "not a moron. It's plain as day now, yeah, you've been swept up in some awful snogging-in-the-cupboard, forbidden-first-love type affair. How did I not see it earlier? All the sighing and looking gooey. Christ, Castiel, I have to say, I think I expected this least from you."

Castiel, now a deep shade of crimson, stares at his suddenly-fascinating shoes. "Um..."

"Alright," Crowley sighs, and he pushes his chair back, "enough, I'll stop humiliating you. Maybe. Here's my proposition."

Cas lifts his head slowly, meeting Crowley's slightly smirking eyes. "Proposition?"

"Well, we've got ourselves a dilemma. You need something - not to fail my class. And I need something too." Crowley explains slowly, talking to Cas as if he were a child. "So, I'm going to make you a deal."

Castiel's ears prick up. This could potentially save his bacon, as the saying goes, but holy fuck does this sound terrifying. Crowley is honestly one of the scariest people he's ever encountered. Who knows what he's gong to ask of Castiel? But if it means letting him off for all the times he's been fantasising about Dean in various positions sprawled on his bed instead of working, he kind of has to do it.

Before he can think it through any further, Castiel just nods. "Okay. Yes."

Crowley grins at him, standing up from his chair. Castiel realises this signifies something - they are no longer talking as student and teacher now, they are discussing something other. Possibly something outside the rules. Cas tries not to focus on the very obvious height difference between them as Crowley comes to stand before him.

"Excellent." Crowley says. "Okay, Castiel. I'm sure you're aware that in the period before I take your lessons, I have another class." Castiel nods unsurely. Yes, he's _aware_ alright. "Actually, I feel I've noticed you out there a few times... you've definitely uh," Crowley seems to try and hide a knowing grin, " _noticed_ the group that come out before I call your class in."

Castiel nods, his cheeks scalding. So Crowley's noticed him checking out the Frat Boys? Great! Who else has been watching him do that? The Queen of England?

"The Frat Bo- I mean, the seniors. You teach them BioChemistry, right?"

Crowley nods. "Yep. So here's what I propose, Cas. I won't flunk you for the assignment that's due tomorrow - the one I'm sure you're well on top of anyway -" he chuckles, watching Castiel's alarmed expression. What assignment?! "In fact, you don't even have to hand it in at all! But I want you to take one of them on."

Castiel's brow furrows. "Take one of them on?"

"Yes." Crowley fidgets a little, and Castiel immediately gets the sense he's a tad uncomfortable. "Tutoring, I suppose. Though really, just taking one of those pig-headed idiots away, just one - even that would be bliss." Crowley pauses, trying to decipher Castiel's expression. "I suppose you should take the ringleader if you're going to take anyone-"

"Dean Winchester is the Alpha of their Fraternity!" Castiel blurts, unable to suppress himself. Oh my fucking God, he thinks. The excitement! He could get to tutor _Dean_. Get to have an hour alone with _Dean_. Are all punishments like these? Forget being a nerd, he's going to become a delinquent immediately.

Crowley looks at Castiel a little funnily. "Yes, I was thinking maybe Dean….”

Castiel nods, pretending to weigh up the options like Crowley seems to be. “So, I would tutor Dean in BioChem?”

“Honestly they all need all the help they can get. You’re a smart kid, you’ll get the hang of it. Just teach him the basics. If you can.” Crowley seems to relax a little then, perhaps sure in the knowledge that Cas is on board with this too good to be true plan. “You’ll need to take him someplace private, where you can properly be one-on-one with him. I might give you a key to another lab.”

It seems to Castiel that he’s radiating excitement, that the enthusiasm must be rolling off him in waves, filling the entire room. How is Crowley not suffocating? All Cas is picturing is Dean’s face with those delicious words. Private. Alone. One-On-One. _Private_. “Sounds, um, like a-uh, plan.” Castiel manages, and Crowley looks at him a little strangely.

“Are you alright?”

“Mm-hmm!” Castiel assures him frantically. “Tip top!” Oh great, now he’s mocking his Professor’s British accent. "I mean, uh, fab. Brill! I just gotta... um, I mean, if you don't need me for anything else... I'll just..."

Castiel starts backing towards the door. Crowley is staring at him with narrowed eyes. "Yes, that's fine... So I'll expect you here at 1pm on Tuesday?"

Castiel nods frantically, turning to leave, as if escaping quickly will stop Crowley from changing his mind. Damn it, he thinks, how will Dean know? 

"Um, Professor?" He asks tentatively, turning on his heel to face Crowley again, one hand on the doorknob. Crowley raises his eyebrows, still watching him. "Shall I tell Dean about the change of plan, or...?"

Crowley laughs at him. "Why? Are you worried the beefy jerk will beat you to a pulp if you try?" 

Cas says nothing, just fidgets quietly, letting Crowley think the worst. 

"I'll tell him. I suppose it's kinder. Standing next to that denim-wrapped muscle-monster you're bound to be intimidated." 

Castiel smiles weakly, trying to look thankful. Honestly, if he did have to be the one to tell Dean, he's not sure Dean would believe him. 

"Thanks, Professor." Castiel says hurriedly, grinning a little too manically. "See you on Tuesday."

And with that, he hurries out of the classroom, not stopping once as he sprints the rest of the way back to his room. Yeah, life is fucking  _awesome_ sometimes. 

* * *

 

As the hours tick by, doubts, as they always do, start to trickle into Cas's mind. What if Dean is horrified at the idea of having to be 'tutored' by someone? Maybe he'll detest the idea that it's  _Cas_ doing the tutoring. Cas is just a freshman after all, one that Dean likes to fool around with occasionally, but still... won't it be kind of humiliating for Dean to have Cas as his tutor?

Castiel chews his fingernails, ripping one off straight away. He tries to relax, sitting on his bed, then laying down flat because he has nowhere to be, nothing to occupy him. 

* * *

 

Oh God, Castiel thinks about ten minutes later. What if Dean thinks this was all  _his_ idea?! What if he thinks Castiel was the one who suggested it to Crowley and not the other way around? He could  _hate_ the idea, and then he'll hate Cas too for coming up with it!

No, no. Castiel tries to calm himself, breathing evenly, thinking it through. If Castiel knows anything, it's that Dean likes surprises. He seems to enjoy it to the  _extreme_ when their... 'meetings' are more creative. Maybe that's part of the reason why Dean doesn't actually call him like he says he will each time. He prefers them to meet unexpectedly, to surprise each other, be innovative about their hook-ups. 

* * *

 

Later in the evening (Castiel loses track of how much time passes) he laughs out loud suddenly, thinking of how fantastic it will be when Gabriel finds out that he's  _actually_ Dean's tutor. Is that kismet or what? Castiel immediately makes plans to go and drop off some of Dean's marked BioChem work when Gabriel is the only one home. Friggin' brilliant.

* * *

 

It's only later, once Cas has made himself some tea and is absent-mindedly dunking a digestive into it, that it occurs to him he hasn't actually _seen_ Dean in a while. Sure, in Cas's experience Dean likes to leave it a while before making contact again, but the whole reason this entire thing began was because Castiel couldn't _stop_ seeing Dean. Waiting outside that classroom, like he always does, he should be seeing Dean saunter past with the rest of the Frat Boys... right? So where has he been?

Castiel thinks hard, sitting up and grabbing his bag, pulling out his notebook and a pen, grimacing again when he sees the lack of notes in the thing. Even his Religious Studies classes have barely anything written for them. 

Thinking hard, Castiel tries to plot out a basic timeline, writing it out on a page near the back.

 **Thursday 15th October** \- First sighting of Dean. 

 **Friday 16th** \- Stalked Dean to Football Practice.

Castiel thinks again, tapping his pen against his mouth. 

 **Tuesday 20th** \- Dean approaches me for the first time/date at The Roadhouse.

 **Thursday 22nd** \- Dean isn't in class/Go to Frat House....etc.

 **Sunday 25th** \- Dean visits me here.

 **Tuesday 27th** \- ???

Castiel tries to remember. What happened on Tuesday? Why didn't he see Dean? Oh yes, he thinks, remembering with a slight blush, Cas was late to class that day. He had overestimated the huge gap he had between lessons, finding himself so overwhelmed with thoughts of Dean that he ran back to his room for a while, brought up that picture of him on the college website and... well. He doesn't need to go into details. 

What he failed to remember however is that even _thinking_ of Dean gets him so ridiculously worked up - he'll often need to come three of four times (when he only has himself to facilitate the orgasms) before he's anywhere near satisfied. He'd gotten too... into things, and he ran overtime. He ended up sprinting back to the Sciences Building, five minutes late to his lesson. Crowley had not been pleased. 

So at least that explains why I missed Dean that day, Castiel thinks, cursing himself for wasting such an opportunity. Sighing, he fills it in on his timeline. 

 **Tuesday 27th -** Late to class.

And that just leaves today, Castiel thinks, confused. Why hadn't he seen Dean today? He thinks back, trying to remember waiting outside the lab. He must have done it, he always waits there. Slowly the memory returns to him. He'd been listening to Morrissey yet again, and sure enough, the Frat Boys had come piling out in their usual jostling manner, but they'd paid him no mind, and strangely, Castiel had barely even noticed them either. 

He remembers his eyes skimming over them, hardly conscious of his actions - his mind had been elsewhere. God, Castiel thinks, it's as if he's been in a drug-induced trance for days. He remembers flitting about from class to class, getting up in the mornings, smiling at people, getting his usual coffees at his usual times, but it's as if he wasn't really there. As if he were a clockwork mechanism, following an already carved out groove made specifically for him. The Dean-drug. It's powerful stuff, Cas thinks, a little alarmed. 

Well one thing is for sure, Dean wasn't in that pack of Frat Boys today. Castiel might have been in a hazy state of mind, but the sight of Dean Winchester, in front of him and in the flesh would have undoubtedly shocked him out of it. 

 **Thursday 29th -** Dean absent from class today. 

For a brief moment that eventually develops into a long one, Castiel wonders why.

* * *

 

At some point during his pondering, Cas must have fallen asleep. He wakes up with the notebook laid across his chest, one corner poking into his jaw. He still has his glasses on, and realises he hasn't removed them since class yesterday, since the talk with Crowley. He rolls over, removing the glasses and setting them on the side. He groans, shielding his eyes from the sunlight pouring in through the window, and lets the notebook slide to the floor. He doesn't even remember laying back down in his bed last night. 

Cas glances at the clock. 12:08pm.

What?!

How on earth did it get so late, Castiel thinks, dumbstruck.

He shimmies himself out of bed, shaking off the sleepiness. It must be all his... extra-curricular activities. He's exhausted himself. Deciding that sleeping in one's clothes is a disgusting thing and not at all simply the 'college-life', he strips off and jumps in the shower.

He feels decidedly better after cleaning himself, using his fancier shampoo as a treat - the one his aunt gave to him before he left. It smells of blueberries. He wraps himself in a fluffy towel and cleans his teeth, realising that he is astonishingly hungry. He makes toast in the communal kitchen in just his sweatpants, laughing a little when Becky walks in, squeaks, and hurries back out again.

At last, he sits at his desk, munching idly on his toast and honey, and opens his laptop, ready to catch up on some much needed Physics work. He's just signing on to his college website when his phone buzzes. It's in its usual spot, plugged in on top of his desk. Castiel's brow creases; he doesn't get many texts.

It can't be anything but a text because despite Gabriel showing him multiple times how to install 'Apps' and use the brick-like thing for e-mails and other sorcery, Castiel insists he wants to stick to the basics. He knows that vibration wasn't nearly enough to signify a phone call, so a text it is.

He brings the phone to his face, curious.

 **Unknown Number**  
13:02pm  
Hey, you miss me yet? ;)

Castiel wrinkles his brow in confusion. An unknown number? Who on earth... _oh_. Castiel's eyes widen, and he drops the toast he's holding, coughing and spluttering around the mouthful currently lodged in his throat. Luckily he had the foresight to make coffee as well, so he gulps some down, eyes watering a little as it scalds him. It's too hot to drink really.  
As the wad of burning hot coffee soaked bread inches its way down his oesophagus, Castiel stares at his phone as though worried the words displayed on the screen might jump out and attack him.

Hold on, he doesn't one hundred percent know this is Dean, there's no reason to jump to conclusions. Just because Castiel doesn't know many people doesn't mean that nobody wants his number. 

Maybe. 

 **Castiel Novak**  
Who is this?

Castiel waits nervously, going to chew his fingernails but finding he's bitten them all off. Possibly in his sleep.

 **Unknown Number  
** Michelle Obama.

Castiel rolls his eyes, his heart starting to pound even so. He types tentatively.

 **Castiel Novak  
** Dean?

An agonising minute ticks by, where every possible response to that question seems to run through Cas's mind. He even wonders if it maybe  _is_ Michelle Obama texting him. 

 **Unknown Number  
** Love it when you say my name, Cas ;)

Castiel's stomach seems to do a 360 degree flip inside him; yep, so this is actually Dean, texting him, right now. He tries to think of a witty, clever response but his mind has gone blank. Luckily, his phone buzzes again before he needs to.

 **Unknown Number  
** What you up to, gorgeous? **  
**

Castiel blushes, which is ridiculous - he's alone in his room. 'Gorgeous', Cas thinks, shaking his head very slightly, doesn't Dean know by now that Cas doesn't need to be sweetened up?

 **Castiel Novak  
** Nothing. Just about to do some work. 

 **Unknown Number  
** Cute. But kinda boring, huh? ****  


 **Castiel Novak**  
Well, I have nothing else to do.   
Plus I'm... getting behind in my studies.

 **Unknown Number**  
Aw, now why's that? ;)

Castiel splutters at the screen. Dean  _knows_ what he's doing to Cas, he must do. That bastard, Cas thinks with a smile, sitting back in his chair. 

 **Castiel Novak**  
Professor Crowley seems to think it's a   
'romance' that's distracting me. 

 **Unknown Number**  
Oh, is that so?

 **Castiel Novak**  
Yes. I believe the words he used to   
describe it were a 'snogging-in-the-cupboard',   
'forbidden' type affair.

Cas tactfully leaves out the word 'love' from Crowley's surprisingly apt description. 

 **Unknown Number**  
Just shameful what kids our age get up to  
nowadays.

 **Castiel Novak**  
Of course I told him that was nonsense. 

 **Unknown Number**  
Oh really?

Castiel smiles to himself, enjoying being the tease for once.

 **Castiel Novak**  
Yes. It takes a lot more than, say, 'snogging'   
or even a little fooling around to distract me.

 **Unknown Number**  
Is that right?

 **Castiel Novak**  
Oh, definitely. I'm probably just a little tired.  
Crowley's got it all wrong.

 **Unknown Number**  
So there's nothing... distracting you right now?

Castiel grins, feeling a shiver run through him. 

 **Castiel Novak**  
Not that I can think of, why?

 **Unknown Number**  
Just checking. 

Cas waits for a moment, but Dean says nothing more. He decides to push it just one last time. 

 **Castiel Novak**  
Well, if that's all Dean, I should really be getting  
on with my work. 

There's no response. Castiel waits, heart pounding, wondering if he took it too far - Dean likes to be the one in control after all. He realises he's half hard, just at the mere prospect of sexual shenanigans with Dean. The guy's not even here for crying out loud! How does he do this?

 **Castiel Novak**  
Speak later?

Castiel has to wait a minute or so, but this time Dean does respond. His phone buzzes and Castiel grins, opening the text eagerly.

 **Unknown Number**  
Take off your pants, Cas.

Castiel stares at the screen. Um... what? Is Dean joking? 

 **Unknown Number**  
Now. 

Eyes widening, Castiel finds himself standing up, a flush of pure thrill cascading over his body. He's helpless to Dean's commands, as ever, apparently even if Dean isn't in the same room as him. His fingers hook into the waistband of his sweatpants and he whips them off, now in just his briefs. He stands uncertainly for a moment, staring at his phone as though it will transform into Dean and tell him where to go now, what to do. 

After a moment of deliberation he sits back down. His phone buzzes and Castiel grabs it. 

 **Unknown Number**  
Have you done it?

 **Castiel Novak**  
Yes.

His phone starts vibrating almost immediately. Castiel blinks, not comprehending what is happening, holding the vibrating phone as though it's a live animal. Then he understands; his phone is  _ringing._ Castiel checks the screen just to be sure. Yep, it's that same number.

Dean is calling him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter on its way, writing as you read this, probably!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel learns about phone sex. First hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for slightly lying yesterday. Here's a chapter of porn to compensate! xx

Castiel stares at the phone in his hand, ringing away. For a moment his mind goes completely blank - what's he supposed to do in this situation? Oh right, he thinks, answer. 

He swipes the screen, bringing the phone gingerly to his ear. He doesn't say anything, he's not sure he could.

The deep, rich voice that could only belong to one person floods Castiel's ears almost immediately.

"Alright, y'little tease. I want you to listen closely."

Castiel shivers, closing his eyes. He presses the cold screen of the phone to his ear firmly, nodding at Dean's words even though he knows the other boy can't hear him.

"I'm gonna give you some instructions, alright?" Dean continues, his voice low and commanding, hardening Cas's cock with every syllable. "Ask you to do some things. All you gotta do is follow along, do what I say. You got that, Cas?"

"Yeah..." Cas replies, his voice barely above an exhale of breath. 

Dean chuckles lowly. "Good. I can hear you're already on your way to distraction."

Cas smirks a little, sliding his hand up his t-shirt so that it rests on his stomach; he needs skin contact, even if it's his own. "Not quite..."

"Oh, I see." Dean says, a smile in his voice now. "Is that how we're playin' it? You think you can keep this up, Cas? You think you can keep tryin'a fool me into thinkin' you're totally unaffected right now?"

Castiel takes a deep breath, as quietly as possible. He wants to at least  _try._ He knows he's not going to last five minutes at this game, but Dean doesn't (necessarily) and hey, if he doesn't keep trying new things out with Dean, the guy's just going to get tired of him all the quicker. He's got to be entertaining, worth Dean's while. Or at least  _try_ to be.

He steadies his voice as best he can, sitting upright, ignoring his hard-on with every ounce of energy he can muster. "Who said anything about 'fooling', Dean? I'm perfectly fine."

He hears Dean letting out a long exhale, and right then, right at that very moment, Cas knows he's done for. 

"Alright." Dean says gruffly, sounding authoritative. It's the same voice he used to address his Pledges, Cas notes. "You asked for it."

There's a shuffling sound, and Cas furrows his brow, confused. He hears a soft grunt, and then a strange, very loud clicking sound. Castiel tries to make sense of it for several moments, and then Dean's voice returns. 

"You enjoy that."

Enjoy what, Castiel thinks, and then his phone buzzes against his ear. He's momentarily even more confused, wondering how he can be rung whilst on the phone to someone, but then he checks the screen. He's received another text. From the same unknown number. 

"You sent me a text?" Castiel asks, genuinely perplexed.

Dean laughs a little. "Open it, Cas."

Castiel obeys, and then, somehow, miraculously, filling his screen are Dean Winchester's glorious, exquisite abs, his tattoo in position just where Castiel remembers it, a gold pendant of a strange face on a length of leather cord around his neck. Castiel bites his lip, his dick jumping in his pants. 

While he's staring, another picture-text comes through, this one of Dean again, in a different position. This time his face is visible; he's grinning at the camera, standing but leaning down towards it. The purpose of this shot, Cas is pretty sure, is to show that he's not wearing anything except a pair of black boxer shorts. The fucker. How the hell is Castiel supposed to act unaffected now?!

"Hmm." Is the only thing Castiel manages to say once he's finally able to stop staring at the images, bringing the phone back to his ear. 

"'Hmm', huh?" Dean asks, and there's a definite knowing smirk in his voice. "Okay then, Mr Unaffected, here's what you're gonna do now. Press the loudspeaker option on your phone." Dean waits patiently for Cas to do this, and a cold chill slips down Cas's spine. The loudspeaker option?! What the hell is that? He brings the phone away from his ear, staring at the screen. He jabs a few buttons, pressing one that looks vaguely like a speaker, and hoping for the best. He waits. "Done that?"

Castiel sighs, relieved. Dean's voice is clear as a bell, bursting out of the speakers in all directions. "Yes."

Dean hums his approval. "Good. Now I want you to bring up that photo of me, Cas. The first one." 

Oh for crying out loud, Cas thinks, again? Sure Gabriel told him that in college his sex life would be eye-opening and expose him to new things, but he was never informed that he'd need to be a goddamn technical wizard. He presses the large button on his phone (the only  _actual_ button he can see) out of desperation, and is taken back to his home screen. He freezes in alarm. 

"...Dean?" 

"Uh huh?" 

"Oh, um, never mind." 

So he didn't hang up on Dean, well at least that's something. He squints at the screen again. How to get back to that picture? Oh yes, it was in his text messages! He should just look in there. That's something he knows how to do at least. He taps the little icon, and sure enough, there are the two photos Dean sent moments ago. He taps the one Dean is referring to - the one of just Dean's torso. 

"Um, I've uh, done that." 

Dean laughs again. "Good. Still unaffected?"

Castiel nods, then realises Dean can't see him. He takes a shuddering breath in, eyes glued to the image now filling his screen with desire. "Completely fine."

"Alright then. Let's see what we can do about that." Dean pauses, and there's a creaking sound, like bed springs. Probably Dean getting comfortable, Cas thinks, wondering if he should do the same. "Put the phone somewhere you can see it, not too far away. I want to still be able to hear you, and I want that picture to be clear to you, got that?"

"Yes." Castiel replies, and props the phone up against the darkened screen of his laptop. "Can you still hear me?"

"Yeah, Cas." Dean is grinning, Cas can tell. "I sure can." Castiel waits, practically in agony, that picture seeming to draw his eyes every time he even dares look away. "Now, I want you to stare at that picture Cas, really look at it. Are you doing that?"

Castiel nearly cries out with frustration. Of course he's friggin' looking at it. "Yes, Dean."

"Good. Now take your hand - whichever one you want - and just stroke it over the front of your underwear, real slow." Dean's words alone make Cas's head loll back. But he sits up again quickly, realising Dean has asked him to stare at the photo. "Just rub gently, alright? Are you doing that?"

Cas uses his right hand, doing exactly as Dean asks, making the movements slow and deliberate. God, he's hard already. Even this light touch feels incredible. 

"Yeah..." Castiel breathes out. 

"Awesome." Dean replies, still smiling. "Now look at that picture, Cas. Do you remember Sunday night?" Cas bites back a moan, having to force his hands not to rub harder - Sunday night, as if he could ever forget that. "Remember being underneath me? You were runnin' your hands all over me, huh? Do you remember how I felt, Cas? What it felt like as you stroked your hands across me?"

Castiel whimpers, it's the tiniest of sounds, but Dean manages to catch it. 

"Ah, looks like maybe someone isn't thinkin' about Physics anymore, huh?" Dean asks, and the smile in his voice is so evident now he may as well be laughing. "Are you gonna make some more pretty little noises for me, Cas?"

Castiel hardly cares anymore, he's so sensitised now he feels he might explode if Dean doesn't allow him to properly touch himself soon. He's lost the game, sure, yeah, whatever - who cares?! Dean needs to keep on saying things, or Cas will die from the torture. "Nnnf- Whatever you want."

Cas's voice is strained and catches in his throat. Dean sucks in a breath, chuckling once, low. "Good, angel. Don't take it personal, I play to win, Cas." There's a pause. "Wish I could see you right now, workin' yourself up like that, gettin' all wrecked."

"Dean... Fuck, your voice." Cas's 'gentle rubs' have increased in tempo of their own accord; he has no intention of slowing himself down either. 

Dean tuts at him. "That mouth of yours, Cas. Filthy once you get goin' aren't you?" Dean seems to readjust the position of the phone by his ear, because when he speaks again, it's louder, clearer. "Can you feel yourself through those briefs, Cas? Are you hard for me, angel?"

"Y-yes, Dean, so much."

"Are you all wet, huh? Are you soakin' through your underwear, Cas?"

Cas can't deny the fact that practically all of the front of his underwear is rapidly becoming transparent. His hand is growing damp as he rubs over the moistened fabric. 

"Yes, Dean. I-I want you so badly."

Dean chuckles again. "You do, huh? What do you want, Cas? You want that to be my hand instead of yours?" Cas moans a little, remembering how Dean's hands _feel -_ calloused, slippery, firm... indescribable. "Or maybe you want my mouth on you instead, is that it?"

Cas can't even help himself at this point, he bucks in his chair, moaning, just  _imagining_ it, the sensation of Dean's mouth, swallowing him down, his unkissed, forbidden lips stretched around Cas's dick... Fuck. 

"Yes, Dean, all of it."

Cas hears Dean sucking in a breath. "Can you picture it, Cas? Can you imagine me, huh? Why don't you slip off your underwear, yeah? Take yourself in one hand, get some skin-on-skin goin'." Castiel doesn't hesitate to comply, lifting his hips and sliding off his briefs without standing up. Dean seems to take it for granted that Cas has followed instruction. "Are you imagining it? I'd start off real slow Cas, with just my tongue. I'd lick up every drop you've already spilled for me, run my tongue over the whole length of you, bottom to top."

Castiel cries out, trying to mimic the sensations Dean is describing with one hand, but failing. "Unnnfgh." He manages eloquently. "Fuck... Don't stop."

"You can imagine it, can't you?" Dean asks, his voice sounding a little more strained. "I'd fit my mouth around you so tight, it'd feel so warm... so wet and warm, Cas, can you feel it?"

"Yes, fuck, Dean I want it." 

"I know baby, I know." Dean assures him. "I want it too, I'd enjoy every fuckin' second of swallowing your beautiful cock."

There's a pause, when Dean seems to lose track, and Castiel fumbles, his hand slowing as it strokes up and down his aching dick. 

"Cas, I want you to do something now, alright? You gonna be good and do as I say?"

" _Yes_ , anything Dean. Anything." Castiel whimpers, staring at the beautiful photo on his phone.

It's not enough suddenly, he needs more. He needs to see Dean's face - luckily he has that photo too. He reaches for his phone, swiping and tapping with shaking fingers, one hand still grasping his erection. Eventually it changes, the image first switching back to the 'caller' screen, where 'Unknown Number' still flashes at him, signifying Dean's call.

"Alright," Dean says, making Castiel jump, and his fingers slide, fumbling again, "what I want you to do is-"

Oh God. Castiel's face drains of colour. He ended the call! Fuck! Goddamn these stupid over-complicated contraptions, he just hung up on Dean in the middle of pretty graphic phone sex! He drops the phone to the desk in horror, squeezing his erection slightly to punish himself for being such an idiot. He can't even call Dean! He doesn't know the number. Or does he? Doesn't the phone save it or something? Cas picks the phone back up, staring at it helplessly. Suddenly, it bursts to life again, vibrating away, 'Unknown Caller' blinking at him asking if he'd like to accept the call. 

Fuck _yes_ he'd like to accept the call. He does so immediately, bringing the phone to his ear, anxiety coursing through him. He relaxes a little, and also rolls his eyes when he hears peals of laughter erupting through the phone. Castiel blushes, smiling, because he deserves to be laughed at right now. He switches the loudspeaker option back on. 

"Fuckin' hell, Cas," Dean splutters out at last, still laughing, "did you just accidentally hang up in the middle of me tellin' you to..." He trials off again, laughing away. Cas waits impatiently, managing to find the buttons (at last) to get the other image of Dean up, the one of him smiling at the camera, in the meantime. "God, you're hilarious." 

"Are you quite finished? I'm an idiot, yes, you were saying?!" Castiel snaps suddenly, and Dean laughs again. Cas curses himself, he can't get mad! Dean is in control here. 

"Woah, gettin' a little cranky are we?" Dean asks mischievously. "I'm sensing a little pent-up tension in you, Cas. Maybe we should work on that, huh?"

"Yes. Please. Sorry." Castiel says, and leans back again, staring now at Dean's grinning face. His hand starts to move of its own accord, and the sensation is beyond words. " _Ohh..."_

"Hey, hey, don't start without me." Dean chastises, and Cas grins. "Now, as I was saying. What I want you to do now, Cas, is to grab that little bottle of stuff I sent you, do you remember? You really seemed to like that stuff as far as I recall." 

Castiel blushes. He hasn't dared use the lube again on his own, though he's often been tempted. He just worries it won't be as good as it was with Dean. Well, that and the fact that Dean hasn't... allowed it, per se. Cas knows that Dean sent the lube, but he didn't say he was permitted to use it whenever and wherever he wants without Dean there. It's better to be safe than sorry, Cas reasons.

He runs to get it now; he stowed it away in a drawer by his bed, for easy access. 

"And while you're at it, Cas," Dean continues, so Castiel whips round to face the phone, Dean's face grinning at him as though he were really speaking, "get that other thing too. The purple thing, did you see that one?"

Castiel pauses, reaching for the purple object he still hasn't been able to identify. He picks it up warily, but trusting Dean, he brings it back with him to the seat. "Got them."

"Nice." Dean praises him, and Castiel squirms, soaking up the appreciation. Suddenly Dean chuckles, as though remembering something. "Sweetheart, do you know what that little purple thing is?"

Castiel blushes again. Well, no he doesn't, but he doesn't want Dean to think he's an ignorant idiot. He sighs, twisting the thing round in his fingers. Well, it's better to get the embarrassment over with sooner rather than later, he thinks. 

"N-no." He admits.

"Aw, well that's okay, darlin'." Dean says, and Cas can again hear the smile in his voice. "It's just gonna... substitute, I guess you could say. It'll make you feel real good, I swear."

Castiel nods, putting the object on the side. "Okay."

"Now why don't you open up that lube. Get some on your fingers, warm it up." Dean instructs, and Cas shakily does so, smelling the familiar honey, and immediately being transported back to Sunday night. "Do you remember me doin' it, Cas? I used a lot. You remember how much you like it, right? All those damn noises you were makin' when I rubbed it all over you-fuck." 

Dean seems to interrupt himself, and Cas tilts his head as his slicked hands rub together. Why has Dean stopped?

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas, hold up I just... mmmf- fuck." Dean's voice sounds breathy, exerted. "God, Cas can you... can you talk... just... say something. What are you doin' huh? Describe it."

Castiel hesitates, unsure. If this is what Dean's instructing him... "I'm... coating myself with the lubricant. My hands."

" _God._ Your  _voice."_ Dean utters. "No freshman have voices like yours, Cas. Keep goin'."

It's hard to tell whether Dean's complimenting him or not, but nonetheless, Cas perseveres. "I'm bringing my hands down now, stroking my... erection."

"Ugh, yeah, what else?" Dean grunts, his voice getting extremely low. 

A realisations dawns on Castiel suddenly - Dean is getting off on this. It hadn't even occurred to Castiel that Dean might be touching himself too, or even that he would be turned on. It's so difficult to be in different rooms like this. Castiel has to say, phone sex seems to have its flaws. 

"I'm... touching myself, Dean..." Castiel says brokenly, stuttering at the feel of his own silky hands, grasping his erection, smoothing the tingling lubricant up and down the shaft.

"S'it feel good, Cas?"

"Yes..." Castiel replies, almost whispering. "It feels like... when you did it... oh, Dean..."

"Cas, you remember the other thing I did?" Dean asks, a sense of urgency in his voice. "When I was inside you, remember?"

"Mmmm." Castiel manages, eyes fluttering wildly at the memory. God, that was a good moment in his life.

"Can you do that for me, huh angel?" Dean asks, and Cas can hear his breaths coming faster, almost panting. "Reach down and push those sweet little fingers o'yours inside you. Go on."

Castiel's eyes widen, and he bites his lip. Last time he'd allowed Dean to do that because he trusted him, because Dean knew what he was doing. That, and he'd had three or four shots of tequila by that point. To do it himself is... a whole other request. 

"Are you doin' it?"

"Dean, I don't know if..." Castiel trails off, not wanting to spoil the party. He's just not certain though.

"Castiel. You _swore_ to me you'd do exactly as I say." Dean practically barks in response, and Cas actually jumps a little. Dean's voice has slipped back into that authoritative tone, the one that screams 'alpha' to the world. "If you really didn't wanna do this, you know what you'd need to say, don't you?" Dean pauses, as if waiting, just in case Castiel decides to say his safe word. It's kind of cute really. Castiel presses his lips together, his cock hardening further, which Castiel hardly believes is possible. "That's what I thought." Dean continues in that same voice after the moment of silence. "So why don't you quit your bitchin' Cas, and damn well start fuckin' yourself on your wet, slippery little fingers, because last time I checked, that's what I _told_ you to do."

Castiel gulps, one hand speeding up as he jacks himself, closing his eyes and imagining Dean speaking these words, ordering him, those venom-green eyes boring into him...

"Yes, Dean." Castiel rasps out in response, and gathers up a smear of lubricant that's gathered on his hipbone. 

Once he's sure his fingers are well and truly coated, he reaches down, past the hand still holding his cock, brushing over his tightly drawn balls, squirming as he does so, and then finally stroking one finger over that spot, just where Dean had not a week ago. He sucks in a breath, wriggling as his finger rubs mercilessly. 

"You're so damn hot, Cas. Are you doin' it? Talk to me, angel."

"Yes Dean..." Castiel pants, applying the first bit of pressure to his hole, slowly inching his way inside. He gasps, his his fingertip slipping past the rim. "I'm- _oh_ , yes I'm doing it."

"Good," Dean purrs, "keep goin' gorgeous, don't stop now."

Castiel obliges, his finger travelling all the way inside, Castiel's other hand moving slowly up and down his shaft. He starts to move the finger inside of him, drawing it in and out, wriggling it experimentally. It's not enough, some part of him seems to whine. Dean had used more fingers, that must be what he's craving. 

Gingerly, he adds a second finger, crying out softly as he pushes inside himself again, every sensation seeming like a tidal wave. "Mmmm, oh, I'm adding another finger..." Castiel informs Dean, and he hears the other boy curse softly. 

"Cas, I..." Cas has to say, in his opinion Dean sounds somewhat 'wrecked' - to put it in Dean's words. Castiel marvels at the image of Dean still filling his screen. "I need to see you. I have to. I think I'm gonna... Oh fuck, please let me see you."

Castiel doesn't stop working himself, the sensations becoming almost trance-like in their incredibility. "How?"

"Will you... take a picture for me? I'll do it too, we can- _ah_ , trade." Dean sounds as though he's speaking through gritted teeth.

Honestly, there's nothing in this world Castiel wants more right now than to see Dean in his current state, to find out why he's making those delicious sounds.

"Okay." Castiel answers, and with the hand he was using to jack himself, he reaches for his phone. It's a difficult task, considering he's basically sitting on one of his hands, but he manages, leaning back in his chair again, propping his feet up on the desk to make it easier for himself. "What would you like the photo to be of?"

"Oh, God, anything. Everything. I wanna see what you're doin' to yourself, Cas."

Castiel's hand is extremely slippery; even clutching the phone is a terrifically difficult task, but he manages, with some minor slips, to keep hold of it, swiping and tapping the screen impatiently at least a dozen times before it does as he says and brings up the camera. Finally. Again, he has the problem of having one hand, well... inside himself, and another arm that's only so long. Getting 'everything' in shot takes a few tries, but eventually Cas manages to get something he's fairly happy with by holding the camera high above himself, tilting his head back on the chair and gazing at the lens. 

It definitely doesn't leave a lot to the imagination. He sends the picture quickly, his straining cock begging him to put the phone down, so he does. He hears the moment Dean receives he message. 

" _Jesus._ " 

"Is it acceptable?"

"Holy mother of  _Christ_ , Cas. What are you a freakin' pornstar? How do I even compete with that?"

"I think I might come immediately if you send another image." Castiel confesses wantonly, his hands resuming their slow, methodical tease. How can he find that spot... the one Dean found that sent spasms through him... "That doesn't mean don't send one however."

Dean chuckles brokenly. "Alright, y'little perv. Here you go."

Again, Cas hears that snapping sound, which he now realises symbolises a camera shutter. A few seconds later he receives a text. 

Cas groans long and loud, staring at the new image on his phone. Dean is laying on a bed, slightly propped up against the headboard,  _completely naked_  and hard as a rock, his cock swelled to an enormous size, flushed and weeping. Dean has also chosen a high angle for his photo, allowing his whole upper half to be in shot too, as well as his face - which is reddened, heavy-lidded and etched deeply with lust. 

" _God."_  

"You like?" Dean asks, another smile in his voice.

Castiel can no longer talk. He responds with a series of appreciative moans. Dean seems to understand. 

"Good, okay Cas now are you all stretched out, huh?" Dean asks, and Cas responds with an affirmative sounding moan. "Alright, here's what I want Cas, you see that purple thing? I want you to take out your fingers and coat that thing up with lube, you got that?" 

Cas shudders violently, and all of a sudden he understands. He sees where this is going. The purple object, it's a plug - Castiel has seen them before. This one is longer in the body than others he's seen in porn videos and the like, but that's what it must be. He does as Dean asks as quickly as possible, dropping the thing almost immediately because of his slippery hands, though he grabs it again fast enough. He squeezes out more lube and covers the thing, letting out periodic moans when he thinks of it entering him. 

"Now what?" Castiel rasps, getting back in position, the plug held firmly in one fist. 

"Now," Dean says, his voice almost a hiss, "I want you to fuck yourself with it. I want you to go real deep Cas, I want to hear you hit your g-spot, hear you scream, okay?" Castiel is trembling, his legs shaking the desk, making the phone vibrate all on its own. "Then, as you feel it fillin' you up, stretchin' out your pretty little hole, I want you to imagine it's me, Cas. That I'm fucking you, and I'm gonna go real hard, and you're gonna love every goddamn second."

Castiel cries out, and he almost comes right then, Dean's words building a surge of something within him. He grabs the base of his dick just in time, squeezing hard, stopping himself. _"Fuck."_

"It's go time, Cas."

Castiel groans, breathing in deeply, and slowly he brings the plug up to his over-sensitised hole. He whimpers, wriggling on his chair as he pushes it forwards, entering himself, the plug feeling all at once enormous, and still not quite enough. It stretches him, creating a burn, and Castiel hisses at it, but it fades fast. He feels impatient, needing desperately to come, and he wants so badly to do as Dean described.

He pushes the thing all the way inside, swearing as he does, and hearing Dean do the same. He screws his eyes shut, ready to do as Dean said, and imagines it. He imagines Dean, as naked as he is in that photo, leaned over him, his shining, huge erection pushing its way into Castiel, de-virginising him with that first sharp, shallow thrust. Slowly he'd sink in further, pushing himself all the way inside, up to the hilt - maybe he'd grab Cas's hips, use them as handles, pulling Castiel towards him as he thrusts in deeper. 

Before Castiel knows it he's moaning, fucking himself in earnest with the plug, eyes screwed shut as it slips inside him again and again, feeling like it almost could be... 

"God, that sound, Cas." Dean says, and his voice just makes the fantasy even more real. "I bet you look so good. Jesus, I bet you feel like nothin' in this world."

"Dean,  _oh,_ it's like it's you..." Castiel whimpers, sensing how close he is. He tilts the angle of his hand somehow and- yes! He's found it, that spot, that beautiful sweet spot. " _Fuck, oh my God,_ Dean... I want it so much. Want you to be fucking me, God, please..."

He hears Dean let out what sounds like an involuntary moan at his own words. "Oh, darlin' trust me I'd like nothin' more."

"Then why  _aren't_ you?!" Castiel can't help but ask, practically delirious. Each thrust of the plug hitting against him sends sparks of something other-worldly coursing through him. "Dean, listen," Cas says seriously, not stopping his movements; he's had a fantastic idea all of a sudden, "you're not that far away, come here, please, come here and fuck me for real, I need you."

Dean lets out a little whimper, and Cas hears the slick, fast sounds of Dean's hand on himself, speeding up. He must be getting close too. "Ugh, Cas I'm sorry I can't. You don't know how much it kills me to say that, man. I'm not even at the Frat House right now."

Cas nearly cries out with frustration. He's not here? Where is he? "Dean I'm so close..." He whines.

"Keep goin' angel, touch yourself Cas, with your other hand."

Cas realises he's completely forgotten his other hand, he's been way too preoccupied with the plug. He grasps hold of his neglected penis, the feeling utterly incredible as he does so. 

"Dean..." Castiel moans.

"Yeah, that's right, you're gonna come for me now gorgeous, aren't you? Go on." 

Castiel does. He doesn't know how; Dean just seems to have a control over his entire being. His orgasm ricochets through him, winding him slightly, making him buck up several times into his own fist as he spurts white hot jets all over his t-shirt. He lets his hands fall away, utterly spent, wishing he had Dean to collapse onto.

He hears Dean come too, not long after that, seemingly from hearing Cas's groaning. He swears several times, and moans once, long and low, a sound which makes Castiel's dick twitch, something he can barely comprehend. 

"Dean Winchester," Castiel say after a few moments, "you're gonna fucking kill me."

Dean chuckles, sounding pretty exhausted. "Does this mean I'm a 'distraction'?"  

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're supposed to face your fears on Halloween, right?

After the phone sex incident, Castiel is left with a mixture of feelings. Dean had stayed on the phone with him for a minute or so after, which was nice, but then there was a scuffling sound, something like a young boy's voice - what the Hell? - and the familiar sound of Dean cursing wildly. He told Cas he had to go, that he'd call him soon. Like normal. Castiel responded "anytime" and he damn well  _meant_ it. 

Now he's not sure how to feel. Sure, the phone sex had been incredible, but it had also left him... a little dissatisfied. Castiel shifts uncomfortably as he stares at his practice Physics exam. He's making himself do a Practice Paper a day, alone in his room, to try and catch himself up. So far it's not helping with the 'distraction'. He doesn't like to admit his dissatisfaction, because it makes him sound like an ungrateful asshole. 

Of course he's awestruck,  _reverent_ even that Dean even gives him the time of day, let alone says filthy things to him down the phone line until he's coming so hard he can barely see straight. It's just that... having had the phenomenal experience of Dean  _actually_ there with him, naked and touching him... there's nothing that can even come close to that experience. Though Castiel does understand that this apparently wasn't possible, considering Dean had said he wasn't even home right now. So where had he been during the phone call? 

Castiel picks up his phone for the billionth time, unlocking it - the picture of Dean is already up on screen, he's considering having it as his wallpaper; he can't stop staring at it. He studies it closely, it's the one of Dean smiling at the camera, showing off his boxer shorts. The room he's in is totally unfamiliar to Castiel. It looks fairly bare actually, though there is a bed. It's not dissimilar to the one Castiel saw in Dean's room at the Fraternity; a single bed with a plain cover - though this one is a dark, uninviting grey. 

There's something else at the corner of the screen, and Castiel brings the photo close to his face, trying to work out what it is. The more he studies it, the more it seems like the edge of  _another_ bed, this one going horizontally across the back wall. Where on earth would Dean be (that's apparently  _not_ in his Fraternity) that has two beds in one room? How far away is this place anyhow? Is Dean travelling to this strange room all the time part of the reason he's so often absent from class?

So many questions. 

Castiel feels the familiar jealousy twisting in his gut. He can't help but think this must be something to do with one of the conquests Dean Winchester is apparently famous for having. Well, the panties pinned to the noticeboard in his room speak for themselves. As do Gabriel's brotherly concerns. 

Maybe he should talk to Gabriel. Castiel had initially been adamant that Gabriel _never_ find out about anything regarding his sex life, let alone Dean, but... he supposes Gabriel must come in useful for  _some_ things surely. Brothers are supposed to offer guidance and wisdom about matters in which their younger siblings are ignorant. Gabriel really only has two things anyone could say he's 'skilled' in: pranking and sex. Castiel's not even sure Gabriel is good at sex, he just assumes from all of his brother's bragging. 

Well, Castiel thinks reluctantly, I do need help... and I'm not thinking of pulling a prank anytime soon...

His fingers flick over the buttons by themselves, finding his contact list and hovering over his brother's name. On second thoughts, he decides to send a text. It's easier that way. 

 **Castiel Novak**  
Gabriel, I need to speak with you.  
Are you busy?

Castiel waits nervously, but luckily not for long. It's a Saturday after all, Gabriel doesn't exactly have a packed agenda. 

 **The Trickster :{D**  
Is this about the stash of dildos  
you keep under your bed? Cause I   
already made a Facebook   
announcement about those.

Castiel rolls his eyes at the response, choosing just not to comment. It's easier that way. 

 **Castiel Novak**  
If you can be serious for two seconds  
I actually have some... sex-related  
questions for you. 

 **The Trickster :{D**  
Damn! Cassy's getting busy!  
I'll be over in ten x

Castiel's eyes widen. What?! No, Gabriel is just coming over? For crying out loud, people need to stop giving Castiel heart attacks by just showing up at his door. At least Gabriel gave a ten minute warning. 

He puts down his phone, his frantic eyes roaming about his room, searching for things that need to be hidden, and hidden well. Gabriel has a knack for finding the places you'd store your most shameful possessions. Not that Castiel had any such possessions... until a few days ago, when Dean decided to send him a package of seriously incriminating objects. 

He runs to his bedside drawer and pulls out the bottle of lube and the plug, blushing furiously. He looks around his tiny room, at a loss for where to put them, eventually rolling the things up inside Dean's hoodie, and shoving them to the back of his wardrobe, underneath a pile of clothes. 

That should be it, he thinks, heart pounding- maybe he should change his bedsheets? He decides there's no time, choosing to straighten out his bedclothes instead. He finds a few pairs of underwear littered about, and shoves them into his washing basket. Apart from that, the only incriminating thing left in sight is Castiel himself, or his filth-strewn mind at least. 

It seems like only seconds go by anyway, before there's a loud, obnoxious rat-a-tat-tat at Cas's door, while he's still dithering in the centre of his room, fretting about what Gabriel might find. He sighs, resigning himself to fate, and goes to answer the door. 

Gabriel looks tremendously happy. He's wearing a short puffy coat over his usual 'I'm-too-casual-to-stand-out-or-be-made-fun-of' attire, and is grinning at Castiel, chewing on a bright red twizzler. 

"Li'l bro!" He acknowledges, barging straight in the way Dean did, and Cas wonders if it's a Psi Delta Alpha trait to barge into people's living spaces uninvited. "Love what you've done with the place." 

"You've been here before, Gabriel." Castiel says, confused, as he closes the door behind them.

"Yeah, but that was when you moved in! Y'know, normal people hang posters and stuff." Gabriel says, shrugging off his coat as he looks around at Cas's bare walls. "This is looking a little drab, Cassy." He turns to Cas, throwing his coat at him and winking. "What must Dean think?"

Castiel, bright red, opens his mouth to protest, but Gabriel interrupts him, simply by raising one twizzler-filled hand into the air. 

"Relax, I mean when he comes over for... y'know, 'tutoring'."

Gabriel winks again, and Cas just rolls his eyes, throwing Gabriel's coat into a far corner. "I doubt he cares. Gabe, can we please just-"

"Ah, yes!" Gabriel interrupts again, bounding over to Cas's bed and sitting on it, using Cas's pillows to arrange himself comfortably against the wall. He bites off another piece of candy with a slightly manic look in his eye. "My little brother's sexual concerns! I'm honoured you chose me to confide in, Cassy, truly. Lay it on me!"

"Well, yes..." Castiel says unsurely, and sighs as Gabriel invites him over to the bed with incessant patting. He slumps down beside Gabriel uselessly. "Alright. So, I've been um... seeing someone."

Gabriel wolf-whistles at once, and Castiel almost tells him to leave. He knew this was a terrible idea, what was he thinking? How is  _Gabriel_ going to help in this situation whatsoever?

"I'm sorry Cassy, sorry. Please continue. You have a little lovin' in your life. Good for you!"

"Yes..." Castiel continues, scrutinising Gabriel, wondering if he's going to make another joke. He doesn't, so Castiel perseveres. "This... person-"

"Male or female?" Gabriel asks.

Castiel just gives him a look. 

"Well I don't know!" Gabriel cries in response to Cas's glare. "I mean, I know when you were fourteen I found those copies of 'Attitude' under your bed-"

"And consequently taped the pictures all over my bedroom walls so that Mom walked in and-"

" _Yeah_ , well." Gabriel interrupts, laughing at his old prank. "Come on, could you have resisted?" Castiel just gives him another glare. "Anyway, the point is, I was pretty sure about your flaming homosexuality at that point, but who knows?! You could be bisexual, pansexual,  _asexual_ \- I'm not a mind reader!" 

Cas sighs. "Nope. I'm afraid you were right the first time. My new... romantic partner is definitely male."

"Score, ten bucks to myself." Gabriel says, ushering Castiel forwards in the story with his hands. "So...?"

"Well, the thing is..." Castiel says, trying to choose his wording carefully. He reaches a hand up to rub the back of his neck, much to Gabriel's amusement. "It's not a very... typical relationship. He's very um... dominating- I guess you could say. He likes to have all the control, and I... God, I never know what's gonna happen next." Castiel fidgets uncomfortably. "I never know where I stand with him! It's... honestly, it's driving me a little nuts." Castiel pauses, looking at Gabriel properly for the first time since he started talking. "I found out the other day I'm failing Physics."

"What?!" Gabriel cries, incredulity written all over his face. " _You?_ You're like the biggest nerd I know!"

"Thanks Gabriel."

"You know what I mean," Gabriel says with a touch of fondness, swatting gently at Cas's shoulder, "I don't get it, why are you failing?"

"Well... Gabe, please don't laugh at me. Well at least not too hard." Castiel pleads, and Gabriel looks suddenly overwhelmed with excitement, the prospect of new, juicy gossip getting him on the edge of his seat. "I'm... I'm fucking _crazy_ about him. I can't think about anything else, I can't concentrate! When we're together it's like the entire planet falls away, he has me completely at his mercy. He could literally tell me to go walk off the end of a pier and I really think I would! But when we're not together it's somehow _worse -_ there's just like a constant ache inside me that I can't get rid of, I just play the last time we met up in my mind over and over. How can I possibly think about Physics when this is going on?"

Gabriel doesn't say anything for a few moments, seeming to let that all sink in. Castiel has slumped down in his position on the bed; he gets the feeling that he hadn't quite realised how bad this is until he said it out loud. 

Gabriel whistles again, eyebrows raised. "Jeez, bro. You got it  _bad_."

"You think I don't know that?" Castiel replies, practically whining. He shoves a pillow over his face, hiding from himself. His voice is muffled when he speaks again. "What do I _do?_ "

Gabriel reaches for the pillow laid across Cas's face, pulling it off sharply and hauling Cas up by the shoulders. He looks into his brother's eyes, suddenly serious and almost menacing, for reasons Castiel really can't understand.

"Listen Cassy, you and me? We have a Novak reputation to uphold." Gabriel says, and he's probably only half-serious, but still, Castiel is a little afraid. "I carefully laid down the pathway for you, so all you have to do is tread in my shadow. But I can't have this, Cassy old pal - can't have my little bro being some bitch-boy to a jerk who sounds like he's messing you around. I'm guessing you're in way too deep to just dump his ass, right?"

Castiel can barely even handle that thought process. Could he break it off with Dean even if he wanted to?! To be fair, he didn't have much of a say in things when they were initiated. Dean had pretty much told him where to be and that was that. Castiel just shakes his head. And of course, despite all the pining and uncertainty, Castiel is having a fantastic time most of the time. He's not sure he would survive if he had to let go of Dean now, so suddenly.

"Fair enough, we've all been there." Gabriel assures him, and there's a twinkle in his eye, as though he's thinking of a plan. He cocks his head to the side, raising one eyebrow at Cas. "Are we still pretending this guy isn't Dean Winchester?"

Castiel splutters, blowing air in a general upwards direction, trying to wordlessly convey to Gabriel how ridiculous that sounds. It doesn't work. Gabriel just stares at Cas, eyebrows raised, waiting for the eventual admission. 

Castiel sighs. Well, it's not like Dean has ever said anything to him  _ever_ about not telling anyone about their... thing. In fact, Dean was the one who even put Gabriel - the damn bloodhound - on this track in the first place, by asking him for Cas's number! Well fuck it, Gabriel is his brother, if Dean has a problem with Cas sharing secrets with his family, he should have damn well said so. 

"Alright, yes, it's Dean."

Gabriel fist punches the air, whooping. "I  _knew_ it! God _damn_ Cassy! A jock senior that's  _alpha_ of a Fraternity? Kudos!"

Castiel, sighing, returns Gabriel's high fives, smiling a little because, well, yes, he's proud. Though he has no idea how he did it. "Does the knowledge that it's Dean help us with my current dilemma?"

Gabriel stops dancing triumphantly at Cas's words, pondering, a little breathless. "Hmm. Well, honestly I just really really wanted you to admit that. But I'm sure we can work something out." The older sibling shifts around, getting comfortable, pretending to twirl an imaginary goatee. "Dean's a complex being. Or rather, he's a simple being, wrapped up in layers of self-loathing, daddy issues, insecurities and a concern for his bad-boy attitude."

Castiel rolls his eyes. "Are you gonna help me or just sit there insulting the guy I'm having a sexual crisis over?"

Gabriel grins at him. "Okay, so he likes to dominate, huh? That's not surprising. Really not." Gabriel pauses for a second, his eyes glazing over, and Castiel kicks him, shaking him out of whatever weird thing he was just thinking. "Hey, when you two spoon, who's the little one? Be honest."

Castiel rolls his eyes and kicks Gabriel again. "We don't um... we've never... he's never stayed. The night, I mean."

Gabriel looks almost cross for a minute, but it dissolves quickly. "Alright, so he likes to have the control, and that's what's messing you up, right? The fact there's no certainty... is it all just booty calls and surprise make out sessions?"

"Um, kinda, I suppose." Castiel replies, shifting uncomfortably. He didn't count on how awkward it would be to have this kind of conversation with his  _brother._ "He does like surprises."

"Woah, TMI bro." Gabriel says, grinning. "Look, if you ask me, you need to try and get some stability going if you wanna stay sane. Why not turn the tables a little, show up unannounced, throw him off guard."

Castiel shakes his head. "I did that already." He pauses, soaking up Gabriel's surprised and slightly impressed expression. "I mean, it was actually an accident. You know that time I... um, came to visit you?"

"I  _knew_ that wasn't your hoodie!" Gabriel cries accusatorially, pointing his finger at Cas. "Gross Cassy, you came into my room after doing God knows what with Dean? In  _his_ room? Have you seen it in there? I could have caught something just from being near you!" 

Castiel picks up a cushion from his bed and promptly whacks his brother round the face with it. "Have you seen  _your_ room, you animal? Dean's room was like a fresh bubble bath compared to wading amongst the candy wrappers and porn magazines!"

Gabriel, laughing uproariously, declares a truce, shielding his face with his hands. Castiel stops, but only reluctantly, folding his arms and looking away. "Cassy, I'm only kidding. C'mon don't sulk. You were saying how you 'accidentally' surprised him?"

Cas sighs for what seems like the hundredth time. Seriously, why did he think talking to Gabriel would be a good idea again? "Yeah, so... I was looking for Dean outside his class and... to cut a long story short, I was mistaken for a Psi Delta Alpha Pledge."

Gabriel barks a laugh. "No way! Wait a minute, are you the kid everyone thinks Dean practically hospitalised? Something about calling him by his name instead of 'Oh Mighty Alpha' or whatever, right?!"

Castiel shrugs. "Probably. Dean told the rest of them he was taking me to his room to... 'pound me'."

Gabriel makes a face. "Gross. I appreciate the double entendre though. It's clever." Gabriel thinks for a minute, still smiling. "So let me guess, Dean thought you did it on purpose? To spice things up, make him think on his toes?"

"Yeah actually." Castiel says, surprised Gabriel guessed so easily. "I didn't though. I was terrified. I thought he'd be angry with me for showing up unannounced." 

"Hmm, I see." Gabriel says thoughtfully. "Well, that's why it didn't work! Cause you weren't acting like you were in control. What you need to do is surprise him, yes, but keep it going! Act like you barely even care if he's there, like you're... oh my God." Gabriel stops, eyes shining and wide, turning to Castiel as though he's experienced an epiphany. "You make him  _jealous_!"

Castiel flushes, eyes widening, starting to shake his head before Gabriel even finishes his thought. 

"Cassy, it's perfect! You flirt with someone else in front of him, he'll feel emasculated, he'll crawl right into your lap!" Gabriel bounces up and down with excitement. "That way you can get some control, you can start telling  _him_ when and where instead of it always being the other way around. Then when you can't concentrate and you need your fix, you just call him up, head straight down to make-out point."

Castiel can't help but think the plan makes an odd amount of sense. How do Gabriel's ridiculous plots always sound so simple when he's the one telling them? But... it's stupid. Castiel could  _never._ He hasn't even thought about anyone else since Dean, he would never be able to be convincing enough for the plan to work. 

"Gabe... I can't." Castiel says quietly, shaking his head. Gabriel looks confused. "I just... I don't get it! I don't understand why Dean ever wanted me in the first place, let alone keeps coming back for more! I'm just a misfit freshman, on a path of sexual discovery seemingly  _way_ later than everyone else... Dean's like... he's like a goddamn Prince or something. I can't risk messing up what we have, even if it's... kind of shitty sometimes."

Most of the time it's incredible, thinks Cas. It's just the fact he's so obsessed. And that's his own problem, not Dean's. 

"Bullhonky." Gabriel cries loudly, so sudden that it makes Castiel jump. He stares at his brother in surprise. "Do you honestly believe that crap, Cassy? You're the smartest, funniest, sweetest little guy I know. Dean Winchester should be counting his lucky stars every friggin' day that he  _ever_ gets to lay a finger on you."

Castiel squirms, completely out of his comfort zone now. Gabriel has never said anything like this to him before, not really. Neither of them were really into 'brotherly affection' growing up - mostly throughout their childhood they bonded through pranking the neighbours (and each other) and the discovery of their mom's porn collection. 

"Dean doesn't get to boss you about whenever the Hell he wants. I'm guessing you've got some gross kinky dom-sub thing going on in the bedroom department because that's just the kinda guy Dean is and that's  _fine -_ provided its consensual." Gabriel shimmies closer to Castiel, who is now a deep beetroot red. "But what's not fine is him parading you about like a puppet on a string, leaving you hanging and not knowing which way's up until you can't see straight, let alone solve an equation or two."

"God Gabe..." Castiel says, staring at the ceiling. "Why do you have to be so good at guessing things?"

"Because I'm a badass." Gabriel says, straight-faced, and it takes Castiel less that a second to burst out laughing. "Now, I've got a plan. There's a Halloween party at the Frat House tomorrow night. It's a mixer, so we're inviting the Theta Phi girls over too." Gabriel wriggles his eyebrows and Castiel laughs again. "Everyone's gonna be in costume; you should come, but for God's sakes  _don't_  search Dean out, alright? Let him hear you're there through word of mouth and then he'll find you."

Castiel bites his lips, pondering. Maybe he could go... it would be a chance to see Dean again at the very least. What on earth would he wear though? "I don't have a costume."

Cas fully expects Gabriel to roll his eyes and tell him to stop making excuses, but instead he looks thoughtful, as though he's taking Castiel's comment extremely seriously. "Good point. You need to look perfect for this to really hit him hard. Basically you need to exaggerate what he already thinks is hot about you."

Castiel blinks at Gabriel dumbly. "And what's that?"

Gabriel does roll his eyes this time. "I don't friggin' know, do I? Jeez Cas, there are some things a brother just can't do, and naming your sexually attractive qualities is one of them." He pauses. "Nice butt."

Gabriel winks, grinning, and Castiel makes a puking noise. "Well then how do I know what he likes? I have no clue! I honestly can't work it out myself, so maybe this isn't a good idea-"

"Get it together!" Gabriel interrupts loudly, swatting Castiel's shoulder. "Look," Gabriel sighs, looking Heavenward for a minute, "I can't believe I'm gonna ask you this, but does Dean have a... nickname for you? Like a pet name?"

Castiel thinks about it, ignoring the pain in Gabriel's voice at asking that question. "He calls me 'Cas'." 

"Cute, but no dice." Gabriel says, shaking his head. "It can't just be your name shortened. And remind me never to call you Cas."

Castiel thinks again, and then something hits him. "Oh! He calls me 'angel' quite a lot."

Gabriel grins widely. "Oh... perfect."

* * *

Castiel tugs at his costume yet again. He's been doing that since he left his room, shifting and adjusting, feeling as uncomfortable as all Hell. It had actually been quite Hellish walking across campus dressed almost entirely in white - and that's just the clothing Gabriel actually  _allowed_ him to wear. 

Gabriel had insisted on taking him out costume shopping today, then insisting on being the one to dress him despite Castiel's many, many protestations. Anytime Cas started 'bitching' as Gabriel put it, the older sibling simply reminded him that if he'd gone costume shopping earlier in the month than actual  _Halloween day_ like a normal person, he wouldn't be in this mess. He also periodically reminded Cas, as he shoved him into changing rooms, that if he'd come to Gabriel sooner, or indeed just told him the truth about him and Dean, they wouldn't be in such desperate circumstances. Well, probably not. 

So eventually the shopping ended, and Castiel had a full costume to wear tonight - if you could call it a costume, Cas thinks. His pants are the best part of it, Cas doesn't particularly mind those - they're just plain white, of a fairly cheap material, but perfectly decent. He's also wearing a gold 'belt' of shiny fabric, knotted at one hip, a plastic silver dagger tied in place. That's all fine, more or less. 

But then... the rest of the costume. Castiel assumed, mistakenly, that when Gabriel announced he was taking Castiel costume shopping, that would mean something that covered his entire body. Instead, covering his bare (and sparkly, thanks to the body glitter Gabriel bought him) torso, is a simple plain white waistcoat, draped over his shoulders, undone 'to show off more of your hot bod' as Gabriel had said. 

Other accessories include a small gold plastic halo, secured to his head by a thin headband and a piece of wire, as well as - of course - two inappropriately large feathery white wings. Gabriel had said they were an amazing find. Castiel thinks they are heavy, awkward and keep getting in the way. He's wearing plain white shoes, and Gabriel had also attacked him with honest-to-God  _eyeliner._

Quite frankly, he feels like he stepped straight out of one of the cheesier 'twink fantasy' spreads in 'Attitude' magazine. At least now, off the main campus, there are more crazily dressed people around. They do all  _stare_ at him though, a look on their faces that he can't quite decipher, though for some reason it reminds him of Dean. But everything reminds him of Dean. 

As he nears the long row of Fraternity and Sorority houses, he seems to fall in step with a large crowd of quite drunk, strangely dressed people, presumably headed for the same party he's going to. He wishes Gabriel was able to go in with him, but he understands that it would ruin the effect if Gabriel seemed like he was involved. He said he'd meet Cas there, though what with all the drunken Sorority girls, Cas won't hold him to it. 

When he gets to the house and steps inside, his mouth falls open a little. It's jam-packed with people, and it's done up to the nines. There are cobwebs across every door, every banister, every possible piece of furniture in every room. There are kegs in each room he wanders into, often with people spraying hoses into each other's mouths. The music blares cheesy 'Halloween' hits like 'Thriller' and 'Monster Mash' but everyone seems to be loving it, dancing along, yelling over the sound of it, smiles plastered on unfathomably creepy painted faces.

Castiel drifts through the mass of people, finding that crowds part for him a little, probably making room for his wings, he reasons. There is glow paint splattered across the walls, giving an eerie effect, lighting the party-goers up neon green in places. In the corner of the entrance hall, just by the stairs, there's a smoke machine. It pours out a thick fog at ankle level, causing tendrils of mist to spiral upwards as people walk through. There's no sign of Dean though, not yet. Castiel is glad in a way - he's not sure he could handle seeing Dean just yet. He needs to at least try and get a bit drunk if this plan of Gabriel's is going to work whatsoever. 

He ducks out of sight of some of a group of zombie-fied Frat boys gathered around a keg painted to look like a tombstone. He should probably try and steer clear of the Psi Delta Alpha boys - last they heard, Castiel was a disobedient Pledge.

After stumbling through several large communal areas Cas hasn't seen before, he eventually finds the punch table in the gloom, and pours himself a cup. People are still staring at him wherever he goes; he doesn't get it! Surely he can't look out of place  _now_ \- there's a guy in here with makeup that makes it seem as though his eyes have burned out of his head for crying out loud. That's surely worth more of a stare than his stupid Angel costume. 

He's just settling the hilariously snake-shaped ladle back in the punch bowl when he feels a jab in his bared torso. He jumps, spilling a little of the blood red liquid from his cup. 

"Hey sexy." 

Castiel turns, confused, at the sound of a girl's voice. "I'm sorry- oh. Hello." It's Meg. The girl from his Physics class, the one who told him they couldn't be friends. She's wearing a strange costume - an ensemble of clip-on ears atop a bouffant of hair, a face painted with a black nose, two sharp little fangs on her incisors, a spiky black collar, and a black dress made of what seems like some kind of fur. "What, um, what are you?"

Meg growls at him in response, showing off her tiny fangs. "I'm a Hellhound!"

Castiel nods, running his eyes over her outfit again as he sips his punch. It certainly makes sense. "Of course."

"So you know half the girls in here are about ready to rip off their slutty outfits for you." Meg tells him, winking, and suddenly, out of nowhere, she has her hand on Castiel's bare arm. "I figured I'd get in here first... lab partner. Who knew you were kinda ripped under those sweaters you're always wearing?"

Castiel chokes a little on his punch. Meg is  _hitting_ on him?! What's happening? Is that really true, what she's saying? It can't be... people are staring at him because he doesn't belong here, because he's a nerd and he's infiltrating their Frat world, not because...

He looks around the room again, noting the many slightly envious looks being directed towards him and Meg, from several parties, some of which are not female. Christ, Gabriel really knows what he's doing with this costume stuff, Cas thinks, and wriggles carefully out of Meg's grip. 

"Um, sorry, I've got to... my brother is waiting for me." Castiel excuses himself, darting away quickly. Meg doesn't seem all that deterred.

"I'll find you later, Castiel!" She calls after him as he slips out into the entrance hall, opting to head up the stairs. 

He ignores the several whispers he hears as he makes his speedy exit: "Castiel? Is that his name?", "Wouldn't mind teaching that little Angel a trick or two..."

On the upstairs landing, where only a few party-goers have ventured, Castiel feels a little safer. He downs his punch, needing to calm his nerves, and tastes tequila in the sweet, sickly concoction, along with a few other spirits. God, this stuff would make you keel over before long, he thinks, staring at his empty cup. Maybe that's the point. 

Suddenly, another cup is thrust towards him, and he looks up to see Gabriel, grinning away, one cup in his other hand, presumably for himself. "Cassy my man! Look at you! I am truly a genius, you clean up really good, bro."

Gabriel sounds a little drunk already, but this is hardly surprising. "Gabe, you dressed me in this."

"Yeah but I never saw the finished _ensemble_." Gabriel tells him, gesturing at Castiel's entire body. "Dean-o won't know what's hit him!" He slings an arm round Cas's shoulders. "He'll come in his pants, the moment he lays eyes on you!"

Castiel rolls his eyes, groaning. "Gabe, shut up-" It's only then, as Cas attempts to wriggle free of his brother's grip, that he notices Gabriel's costume. "What... are you wearing?"

Cas steps back from his brother, alarmed, watching as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Ah, Señor Cassio - I must deliver to the Señoritas the kielbasa they ordered, si?"

The accent is a mismatch of Mexican, Polish and Hungarian but Castiel decides not to comment. Instead, he gulps down more punch, trying not to gag at the sight of his brother's slicked back hair, his false curly moustache, or worse - the thick gold chain holding a chilli pendant, visible through the wide 'V' of his unbuttoned shirt. 

"This isn't even the best part!" Gabriel cries, grinning, his accent gone for the moment. "Check it out!" 

From down by his feet Gabriel picks up a large rectangular piece of cardboard, about the width of Castiel's wingspan give or take. He holds it up, and Castiel sees that there is a large square window cut out of it, which Gabriel can look through, big enough for two people at least. Cas tries to make sense of it for a second, and then sees the writing on the card. There's a 'YouTube' symbol in one corner, and above the cut out window is a 'title':

**Drunk Guy In Costume Hooks Up With Hottest Girl At Party**

It's clever, Castiel thinks, a pickup line already worked into the costume - just Gabriel's style. The 'YouTube page' part of the costume has actually had a lot of work gone into it, Castiel notices, it looks quite realistic. Gabriel must have really put some effort in. 

"Nice." Castiel admits, grinning and rolling his eyes slightly at his ridiculous older sibling. "You really think that'll work?"

Gabriel winks. "It sure has so far." 

Castiel raises his eyebrows, impressed. He's already three-quarters of his way down the punch he's holding - how did that happen? He can't let himself get too wasted or he'll give the game away the second he sees Dean. Speaking of...

"Have you seen Dean?" Castiel asks Gabriel as his brother carefully puts down the cardboard, leaning it against a wall. Gabe rolls his eyes. 

"Cassy, what did I tell you? Don't look for him, alright? Let him come to you." Gabriel takes Castiel by the wrist then, pulling him along. They head down the stairs, Cas somewhat reluctantly. People just won't stop their relentless staring. "You need to loosen up, enjoy the party. I'm getting you another drink." 

And then Gabriel has disappeared, as though by magic. Castiel looks around himself, seeing only hungry eyes roving over his bared torso. It's all so peculiar, he's never been an object of desire before. He fidgets uncomfortably, wondering where to go. He's standing in the entrance hall again, so he pushes his way through into the room where he found the punch bowl. Gabriel doesn't seem to be in there, so Cas heads for the table again, pouring himself another drink. 

"Hey, Dean-o!" Someone shouts as Cas's back is turned to the room.

Castiel freezes, dropping the ladle unexpectedly, splashing some random girl with punch. He apologises profusely to her, but she doesn't seem to care. She flips her dark hair at him, her smeared red lips stretching into a flirty smile. Cas shrinks into the midst of a gaggle of people, turning cautiously to see who called Dean's name. He still can't face the man just yet, he has to try and slip out of this room unnoticed, if possible. But first... well, maybe just a peek? Castiel peers through the gap between two partiers, trying hard to stay out of sight.

Sure enough, there he is, waltzing into the room like he owns it, Dean Winchester: Alpha, God, guy who made Cas come all over himself on the phone the other day. Castiel's breathing speeds up at the sight of him. Dean is dressed as a cowboy, a sheriff actually, judging by the shiny star badge pinned to his waistcoat. Dean's gone for a more naturalistic look than others at the party (for instance, _Cas_ ) wearing dark, slightly flared jeans that define his ass beautifully, a Texas belt-buckle, a tan waistcoat over a plain white shirt, and a heavy-looking dark brown leather jacket. Of course, there are accessories too - a cowboy hat that immediately gives Castiel ideas for all sorts of new fantasies he'd never even dreamed of, a length of rope attached to his hip, and a shiny plastic pistol in a goddamned _thigh holster._ That last one is the thing that gets Cas trembling.

"Alright everyone?" Dean calls, and somehow that authoritative voice of his carries over the blaring music. "Havin' a good time?"

There's a chorus of whoops and cheers that respond in the affirmative, though Castiel stays quiet, trying to be as unnoticed as possible. He moves slightly from his position, hiding behind three scantily-clad, blood-soaked girls, hoping to Hell his wings don't give him away. Dean pulls out his pistol and fires it playfully at a few people, grinning.

"Awesome. Who's gonna get me a drink then, huh?"

Dean spins on his heel then, looking at all the party-goers who are desperately offering their servitude in terms of drinks. Castiel stops breathing when he turns in his direction, being as still as possible, bending over slightly so he can't be seen. He can't help but notice, even as Dean then turns away without seeing him, that the guy looks a little tired. Not in a sleep-deprived sense, more like... exhaustion. Again, Castiel wonders where he was during that phone call, if being wherever he was exhausted him, put those dark circles under his eyes.

Some other Psi Delta Alpha brothers enter the room, pulling Dean away to perform his legendary 'kegstand', whatever that means. Dean laughs and lets himself be taken off, and Castiel relaxes, straightening up again, only to find himself looking into the faces of three young, mischievous Sorority girls. One of whom he knows. 

"Told you I'd find you." Meg says, winking at Cas, and he backs up a step, eyes widening. The girls catch hold of him, pulling at his arms, his waistcoat, even at his belt. "Don't run off, c'mon! Meet my 'sisters' Castiel. I promise you'll like them just as much as you like me."

Castiel looks into the eyes of the other two girls, noticing the same slightly evil glint in them that Meg has in hers. He's sure he will like them just as much as Meg, which is to say - not at all. 

"I'm Ruby." One of them says, her voice sultry, her eyes almond-shaped and catlike, though maybe that's just due to her cat-costume, Cas considers. Castiel notes that this is the girl he just splashed with punch. She still looks unbothered by this fact, considering her vice like grip is currently digging into his bicep. "Now I think personally that it's very unfair that Meg gets to have you all to herself. We should at least have turns, don't you think?"

Castiel shakes his head vehemently. "I-I'm afraid I..."

"Aw, you hear that?" The other one says, smirking, her sharp features accentuated by the way her red hair is scraped back into a tight bun. She seems to be dressed as a generic zombie-version of herself. Lots of blood everywhere, but essentially just a slutty dress. "He's afraid!" 

"Woah there ladies, give him some space, huh?" Castiel has never been more relieved to hear Gabriel's voice in all his life. "My little brother is a hot commodity at this party, you can't have him just cause you corner him." 

The girls scowl at Gabriel, reluctantly dropping their hands. Castiel lets out a breath of relief, shakily raising his punch cup to his lips. "Thanks, Gabe."

Gabriel rolls his eyes at Cas, turning back to the girls, winking around his 'charm' smile. "Just because _he_ plays hard to get though, doesn't mean that I do." The girls turn to head back into the crowd, grimacing, and Gabriel calls after them. "Hey wait up! Are any of you girls interested in starring in my YouTube video?"

Castiel swats at his brother, gripping him by the open shirt collar before he can go running after them. "Leave them, Gabe. They are... not nice."

Gabriel rolls his eyes again. "Some of us aren't looking for 'nice', Cas."

* * *

 

After Gabriel leads Cas away from the punch table, clearing a path for them by declaring he's escorting 'fresh sausage', Cas - humiliated - finds himself in what appears to be a very large kitchen. He turns to Gabriel, helpless. 

"Gabe, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. I saw Dean earlier but I _hid_ from him, I don't think I can face him-"

"Shut the Hell up and drink this." Gabriel yells, shoving a shot glass into Cas's hand and pouring tequila into it. He pours one for himself too, and they both down it without grimacing. Luckily for Cas, the preference of tequila seems to run in his family. "Now listen Cassy, everything is going to plan! There's practically no one at this party who isn't talking about the sexy, mysterious angel guy - everybody wants you! All we gotta do," Gabriel refills their shot glasses; Cas doesn't protest, though honestly he's getting a little light-headed, "is wait until someone mentions your name to Dean." 

Castiel clinks his glass against Gabriel's, knocking it back. "And then what?"

"Then we go into phase two of the plan." Gabriel explains not very helpfully. "Now go mingle, Cassy. Flirt with everyone. And if you can, stay out of Dean's way."

With that, Gabriel makes a swift exit, leaving Castiel gaping after him yet again. He can hardly blame the guy really, it must be a Hell of a nuisance, having your whiny little brother following you around at a party while you're trying to score. He should do as Gabriel said - flirt, mingle etc. Not traipse around after his brother trying to blend into the shadows. 

He's actually feeling pretty confident. Yeah, people are checking him out all over the place. Making Dean jealous is going to be a piece of cake, Castiel thinks, grinning inanely. Castiel takes a step forward, stumbling a tiny bit, but managing to walk straight after a couple of tries. He exits the kitchen, wandering into a different room. There's a pool table in here, along with a flatscreen and every games console Castiel has ever heard of, though they're all covered in cobwebs of course. 

There's a group of Frat boys lounging on a sofa, with one on his own just to the right of them, standing up, clutching a beer and staring at his phone. Castiel cocks his head, looking at this guy. He's kind of cute, he reasons. Well, he's no Dean Winchester, but he can't really afford to be picky when flirting to make someone jealous. It doesn't work that way. Castiel tries to consider the pros and cons, but finds his brain isn't quite up to the task at present. He decides to just give it a shot.

He meanders over to the boy, plastering on a smile, readying himself for small-talk and flirting. Wait, how do you flirt? Cas panics; he's never done it before... uh oh. Too late, the guy has looked up, Castiel is standing before him.

"Hey there." He finds himself saying to this jock, who immediately pockets his phone and smiles, raising an eyebrow. He has a good face, Cas thinks, kind of angular, almost rectangular even. His hair is nice too, a little bit blonde and in a slight wave, though nothing like Dean's. "S'methin' more interesting going on on your telephonio?" 

Is he slurring his words? How on earth is he drunk enough to do that? He shakes his head, trying to get rid of some of the fuzz. When he refocuses, the guy is still staring at him, grinning a little now. 

"Have you been drinking that death punch?" He asks in a British accent, and all Castiel can think of suddenly is Crowley. Instant turn-off.

"Mmmmahybe." Castiel replies in what he thinks is an extremely enigmatic tone of voice. Yeah he's got this flirting thing down. He sways a little, gaining confidence slightly. "Look, honey," Castiel says and his brain immediately regrets that endearment, "are you into this... or not? Cause if I'm wasting my time...." He staggers backwards a little, and the guy catches him, laughing, his hand steady and firm on Cas's right shoulder. 

"I don't think you're wasting anything, handsome." The guy says softly, his face suddenly very close. Castiel blinks at him. He realises that he really doesn't find this guy attractive at all. There's nothing there, no spark of all-consuming electricity like he has with Dean, nothing of the sort. Sure, this British dude is fairly 'handsome' as he puts it, but apart from that... "I like your costume."

Castiel is momentarily distracted by the sight of this stranger's fingers brushing against the feathers of his wings, and then he hears something. Something that makes the blood drain from his face. 

"Yo, whaddup Dean! Come here a sec, settle a debate for us." 

It's the Frat guys on the sofa just to the left of Castiel and this boy, they're calling Dean over! Shit, he thinks, how do I- but it's too late. Dean has approached, grinning, though he hasn't noticed Castiel yet, thank goodness.

"I... um, I'm sorry, uh, mister but I have to..." Castiel struggles to whisper urgently, trying to duck out of this guy's grasp. 

"Woah, where do you think you're going?" The guy says in response, his grip holding firm onto Cas's shoulder. Castiel swallows, keeping one eye trained on Dean. 

"Look, guys-" Dean starts to say to the Frat boys, probably about to settle a very interesting debate on whether COD is better than GTA, but he's interrupted by a pair of girls running up to him, giggling, each pushing the other, trying to get each other to ask Dean a question. Dean grins at them charmingly, amused at their antics. Castiel immediately hates them for being on the receiving end of that smile. 

"Dean!" One of them squeaks eventually. "We have to ask you-"

"Great party by the way!" The other one butts in, letting herself be shushed straight after. 

"We have to ask you, who's that _guy?_ Is he one of your Pledges? He's so... so  _dreamy._ "

Dean's grin slips a little, his brow furrowing. "What guy?"

"Oh God." Castiel whispers, horrified at what's about to happen, pushing against the British guy's chest when he mistakes that for an encouragement. 

The girls squeak again. "He's dressed as an angel. He's got black hair and, um big, blue eyes... everyone's asking about him, do you know who he is?"

Dean's brow creases again, confused. His other 'brothers' stare up at him from the couch, wondering what Dean will say. "Point him out to me."

"Fuck." Castiel hisses, struggling to get free again, but the British dude just crowds in closer, slipping an arm round Cas's waist, playing with the halo on his head. 

The girls are searching the room with their eyes, and sure enough, they land upon him, squeaking yet again. Too late, Castiel thinks, screwing his eyes shut, opening them immediately because he can't help himself. Again, he tries to slip free, just as they nudge Dean, and both of them point to their right, biting their lips. Dean follows their finger with his eyes, and Cas is - damn it - he's too friggin' late. 

Dean meets his eyes, disbelief written in those emerald irises. He stares, mouth slightly open, and Cas sucks a breath in, staring right back. Vaguely, in the back of his mind, he remembers Gabriel's plan. He's supposed to be making this guy  _jealous_ goddamn it! Well, here's the perfect opportunity! Jeez, Cas thinks, heart racing wildly, Gabriel your plan had better fucking work. 

So, summoning tequila-soaked courage from the recesses of his body, Castiel draws himself up, turns to the boy in front of him, still smiling away, screws his eyes shut, and leans in. He gives him one, short, chaste kiss.

The boy is apparently so stunned by it, he loosens his grip, and then... well, Castiel legs it. 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What did you learn today then, Cas?
> 
> "Um, that sex fuelled by jealousy is the Best. Thing. Ever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: [never had to do warnings before! so exciting!] Sexual slurs (like name-calling: 'slut' etc), bondagey stuff (very very mild), possessive!Dean, sexual torture (only like not allowing someone to come for a long time).
> 
> Hope this doesn't deter you at all, haha! It's really not that bad. I just wanted it to be hot. ;) love you guys xx

Castiel finds himself in the bathroom, with no real memory of how he got there. He knows he ran away from the situation that just occurred, he must have done, or he'd still be there, staring into Dean's shocked eyes, narrowing as he saw what was happening. Castiel has never been more terrified, or more excited. He feels the adrenaline coursing through him, and he laughs a little, manically, as he sits on the lip of the filthy bathtub. There's a bandaged up 'mummy' inside, swimming in some greenish goo. 

"I can't believe I just did that." Castiel tells the mummy, shaking his head in wonder. He barely recognises himself anymore. Kissing random strangers at parties, playing mind games with what is basically his sex-buddy? He's no longer the Castiel he once was. The mummy doesn't reply, not that Castiel expected it to, and he sighs. "I need another drink."

He exits the bathroom and lots of people scowl at him, suggesting that during his frantic escape from Dean and that British dude, he probably jumped the queue for the toilet. He makes his way through the crowds, though his progress is slow, partly due to intoxication and partly because people keep pawing at him, mainly giggling girls wanting to feel his bared chest or run their hands over his wings. Eventually he makes it, and almost groans when he sees the punch bowl is empty. 

Spinning on his heel, he searches around the room and spots Gabriel, over by the keg with a group of other Psi Delta Alpha's. Not Dean though, thank goodness. He heads for them, not even caring that the others might mistake him for a disobedient Pledge.

"Gabe," Castiel shouts at his brother, trying to get his attention - the music is extremely loud, "Gabe you ass-hat, listen."

Gabriel turns his head drunkenly at the sound of his name, looking up from where's draped on a chair next to the keg. "Cassy! D'you find him?"

Castiel nods emphatically, and Gabriel claps, excited for him. "I need a drink, Gabe. Bad."

Gabriel nods seriously. "O'course li'l bro! Open wide!" 

Castiel's brow creases for a moment, and then he sees Gabriel, along with some other Frat Boys around him, picking up the hose connected to the keg, aiming it squarely at his face, laughing. He ducks out of the way just in time, and the spray of beer soaks a guy behind him, the one who's eyes look like they're burnt out. He doesn't look too bothered, just laughing it off. 

Castiel shoots Gabriel a glare. 

"I'll get you a drink, sugar pie." The unmistakeable voice of Meg says from behind him, and he turns, filled with dread, to see her standing there, nonchalant, a wicked smirk on her face. She holds two bottles in her hand, and she raises them to Cas's eye level, grinning. They're both bottles of tequila. Damn it, how did she find his weakness? "You want some of this, Castiel?" 

Castiel can't help it, he really does. He feels like he's going to have a panic attack over what he just did in regards to Dean unless he has some alcohol pumping through him really, really soon. "Yes. Please."

Meg grins wider, and turns her head towards a group of people to their left. "Yo, Rubes! Come help me over here! I caught us an Angel!"

Castiel watches helplessly as Ruby peels away from the group she was with, smiling and heading over towards them. "Girls, I just want a shot-"

"Shhh." Meg says, handing Ruby a bottle. Both the bottles have those shot pouring spouts on the end, he notices. He wonders if Meg has any shot glasses about her person. "Now Angel-cakes, get on your knees."

"What?" Castiel asks incredulously. "Are you crazy?"

Ruby smirks. "Maybe a little. How badly do you want a drink, Castiel?" 

He considers this. Quite badly actually. Really, getting on his knees is not the worst thing they could have asked of him. He's used to Dean asking a lot worse. He sinks to his knees begrudgingly, and both the girls cheer. They're attracting a gaggle of people now, onlookers that sense a show, huddling around them. Castiel can't imagine why, he's just asking these girls for a drink. The people start to form a half-circle around them, trying to see. 

"Okay, now Castiel," Meg coos at him, dragging one finger around his face, curving under his jaw and tipping his face skyward, "open wide!"

Cas isn't sure why exactly, maybe it's that so-called 'peer pressure' he's always hearing about but has never before experienced - regardless, all he knows is that he does, in fact, open wide, and that immediately Meg and Ruby start taking it in turns to pour shots into his mouth. They miss half of the time of course, dribbling it over his chin, even getting some into his hair. Castiel tries to lap up some of it with his tongue, but it has very little effect. Somehow a vast amount gets poured down his neck and over his chest, something that makes a lot of the watching crowd very excited - for reasons Cas can't understand.

All in all, he has about two/two and a half-ish shots poured actually _into_  his mouth before someone comes and breaks up the game. Cas shuts his mouth indignantly, wondering who it is that's telling everyone to 'grow up' and to 'get away from him'. Then he realises and feels utterly, completely stupid. It's Dean. 

He's breaking up the people with his hands, pushing them back into their huddles, grabbing Meg and shaking her, shouting something at her that Castiel can't fathom, gesturing at Cas every few seconds. Cas catches a glimpse of Gabriel and flushes, having forgotten that his brother was there throughout the whole pouring of the tequila thing. Gabriel is staring at Dean now, eyebrows raised, smirking a little, and his gaze meets Cas's. He winks. 

Then, suddenly, Cas is being hauled up - he hadn't even realised he was still on his knees - and Dean is gripping his shoulders, staring into his eyes. He looks quietly furious, like he's hiding the anger under layers of thick alpha-male ego. Castiel can't think for a moment, Dean is so close to him, Castiel can smell his incredible fragrance, feel the breaths wafting over his face. Dean's hands are upon him, digging into him actually - it's a glorious moment. 

"You like games, Cas?" Dean whispers at him venomously; Cas is too stunned to reply. Dean smirks a little, and it looks angry, cruel. "Let's play some games."

* * *

 The next thing Cas knows, he's in Dean's room. This would normally be fantastic, especially considering the fact that Dean is in here with him, but unfortunately - so are a group of other people. Cas is sat on the bed, in the corner beside Dean, something he is trying very hard not to concentrate too hard on; he doesn't particularly want to have a raging erection in front of all these other people. He notices Meg in the midst of them all, along with a couple of other Sorority girls and a few of the Psi Delta Alpha's. Everyone is seated in various positions around the room, but somehow it forms a sort of circle. Meg, sat on the office chair Dean has beside his desk, winks at him.

"Alright," Dean says loudly to the room, making Castiel jump, "the name of the game is Truth," he pauses, smirking at certain people, "or  _dare._ "

Castiel gulps, and then remembers. Oh right,  _games._

"I vote that Clarence over there goes first." Meg calls out, smirking. Castiel is stunned to see that Meg is pointing directly at him. Clarence? 

Cas's eyes widen, and for some reason he looks up at Dean, only to find Dean is staring at him too, a glint in his eye.

"I have to second that." Dean says, smirking also. "Truth or dare, Cas?"

Castiel's mind races - in the few times he's played this game previously, the 'truth' option has always been his failsafe. Right now however, he is truly in no state of mind to be contemplating the truth option. Who knows what he might say?! He casts a helpless gaze at his immediate surroundings, realising with confusion that there's a very large, maroon-coloured, Psi Delta Alpha blanket over his and Dean's laps, though not over the one other person on the bed beside Castiel - Luke. Had Dean thought he was cold? That's quite sweet. Maybe he'll be nice in this game. He might ask an easy truth, so as not to embarrass him. 

"Um, truth." Castiel answers eventually, considering the fact that although he's in no state of mind to be answering truthfully to things, it would probably be worse for him to do a dare right now. Nevertheless, as always, many people roll their eyes. 

"Of course the angel boy picks truth." One of the Frat Boys says, shaking his head as he continues nursing his beer. 

"Quiet." Dean says sharply, and Cas can't help but smile a little. "Alright, a truth for Cas, anyone?"

"What was the nature of the last sexual activity you were involved in?" One of the Sorority girls Cas doesn't know calls this out, and he immediately blushes bright red. God, this is the worst possible situation. "Yes! Look he's blushing! It's gotta be good!"

"Thank you, Lisa." Dean says icily, shutting the girl down with a stare. He turns his attention to Cas, giving him a slow, knowing smile. "Well?"

"Um," Cas begins eloquently, purposefully keeping his gaze away from Dean, "well, I-I-"

"Come on feathers! Out with it!" Someone shouts, and Castiel sucks in a breath. His mind is freewheeling, it must be all the tequila. 

"Well, um, does... phone sex, count?" He utters unsurely, and he can feel Dean breathing evenly beside him, completely unfazed. Castiel wonders what Dean would do if he just told the entire room that they're basically sleeping together. Then again Dean's probably safe in the knowledge that no one would believe a word of that even if Cas did say. 

People titter and shrug at Cas's question. "Um," Lisa says, "I guess?"

"Great!" Cas squeaks. "That then, let's move on."

The rest of the players shrug, and they turn to Luke, sitting beside Castiel, deliberating over what his dare could be. Castiel relaxes silently, relief flooding through him. He hears Dean chuckling softly beside him, and closes his eyes. Bastard.

A few minutes pass; Luke is dared to do a striptease, which he does, all the way to his underwear before someone, one of his so-called 'brothers' stops him, telling him no-one actually wants to see what he's got down there. Castiel is almost over his embarrassment in fact, relishing someone else being in the spotlight. And then he feels something. A soft tickle, brushing over his thigh. He jumps a little, thinking it might be a spider, or maybe a mouse, but he realises after a few moments that it's fingers, brushing over his leg, back and forth. 

He looks curiously down at the spot, seeing the blanket covering what's happening. It must be Dean, he's the only one close enough. Cas looks up at him curiously, only to find him completely engaged in the game, laughing along with the others as he swigs from a beer bottle. The touch gets firmer against Cas's thigh, now more like a palm, purposefully stroking up and down his pants-covered right leg. 

What the Hell is happening? Cas is tempted to lift the blanket and see for himself, but what if it _is_ Dean? Then he might be angry with Cas for ruining it, might cease the touching. Castiel bites his lip, unsure, sending glances over to Dean every few seconds, trying to catch his eye. 

Then the touch moves, and Castiel nearly makes an audible noise. The hand - and it must be Dean's, it has to be - has travelled from his upper thigh and across to his crotch. It just rests there now, completely invisible to anyone else because the blanket obscures it. Cas looks at Dean's left shoulder, follows his arm downwards - sure enough it's under the blanket. Castiel gulps, wanting to moan when he realises that it's Dean's hand on him right now. But what is he doing!? They're in the middle of a game! There are so many people here!

Dean shifts his gaze a little, meeting Cas's eye briefly, and Cas could swear it twinkles. Dean's hand moves then, squeezing lightly, and Cas gasps, momentarily forgetting to be quiet. Dean doesn't stop, his hand stroking firmly over the front of Cas's pants, rubbing over the exact spot where Cas is rapidly growing a pretty intense erection. 

He gasps again, quieter, forcing himself to fixate on something straight ahead of him, not Dean,  _not_ Dean. Fuck, Dean is speeding up, his hand steady and perfect as he coaxes Cas's erection into existence. Dean is showing absolutely zero signs of being affected by this, and Cas hates him for it. He clenches his fists in Dean's bedclothes, cursing under his breath. 

"Castiel?" Meg asks, and it's clear in her face that this is not the first time she's said his name. He looks around; everyone is staring at him. Do they know?! "Clarence, it's your turn."

"O-oh." Cas manages to say, his eyes fluttering a little as Dean's fingertips brush over the spot where the head of his cock lies. "I pick, um, uh- truth." 

Well, it's not like he can really go anywhere, or do any kind of 'dare' right now, is it? Meg pouts a little at his response. "Fine. Um, ohh, I don't know...." Meg casts her gaze about, looking for inspiration. "If you had to suck one of the guys off in this room, who would it be?" 

Castiel closes his eyes, willing the question away. Why did  _he_ have to be asked this out of everyone?! He might as well just get it over with, he thinks. He's about to speak, and then, with no more than a simple flick of his fingers, Dean unbuttons his pants. Instead of making an intelligible noise, Cas squeaks. He flushes further, Dean's fingers slowly working the zipper of his fly downwards, hardly making any movement under the blanket whatsoever. Cas has to admit that's quite impressive. 

Without thinking too much, Cas jabs a thumb at Dean, not even looking at him. The rest of the room whistles and laughs, calling out stupid things like: 'get in there, Dean-o' and 'looks like you found yourself a guardian angel for the night!'

Dean grins at them all and shoves a middle finger up while still holding his beer. Again, impressive.

It's just as well that Cas's turn is over at that point, because that's the moment Dean's hand decides to delve into his pants, and he can't help but jack-knife a little when he feels it, biting his lip hard. Dean's hand goes limp for a moment, waiting until Cas straightens up again, but then he resumes his dive, reaching into the warm space between two fabrics, continuing to rub against that same spot. 

"Wait a minute!" Luke says, holding his hands up as people try to 'Truth or Dare' him. "We skipped Dean!"

"Oh yeah!" Cries Lisa, grinning, and everyone in the room turns their attention back to the corner where Dean is currently inserting his hand into Cas's pants. "So, Dean? Truth or Dare?"

Dean doesn't skip a beat. "Dare."

"Hmmm." Someone says. "A tricky one. What's a dare worthy of Dean Winchester?"

"I got one!" Lisa cries, and quick as a flash, Dean whips his hand out of Cas's pants, readying himself for what's about to happen.

Cas doesn't know what's worse - having Dean doing that with his hand and trying to hide his pleasure from a room full of people, or not having Dean do it, whilst being fully aware of the pleasure it causes. Like right now.

"Lay it on me, sweetheart." Dean says to Lisa, and Cas notices her cheeks pinkening.

He hates Dean a little for calling her sweetheart. She's extremely beautiful, this girl. Cas wonders if Dean's ever... done anything with her. Probably, he reasons. He gazes up at Dean's noticeboard, wondering which of the pastel-coloured lacy panties belong to Lisa.

"Okay," Lisa says, tucking a strand of her thick, dark hair behind her ear self-consciously, "I dare you to make out with the hottest person in this room."

Cas's stomach turns as soon as he comprehends the question; he doesn't want to see Dean making out with someone else. He watches as Dean grins at Lisa, drains his beer and sets it on the side. It'll be her then, Cas thinks, and wonders if he can slip out of the room while they're-

Cas is actually knocked backwards by the force at which Dean swoops in on him, their lips colliding as a sparkling asteroid would against a lowly planet. Cas lands on soft mattress thankfully, Luke scooting out of the way just in time. Dean kisses him hard, soft and slow all at once, and though it takes Castiel's brain a minute click into comprehension, he realises it's the most incredible thing he's ever experienced.

Aside from everything else with Dean that is. 

He kisses back with fervour, a desperate noise escaping from his mouth because he thought he wasn't  _allowed_  this, thought Dean saved his delicious fruit punch lips for girls like Lisa, for beautiful people he could be seen with, that he could actually... love. If he ever chose to do so.

He feels Dean smile against his mouth, and Cas just kisses harder, desperate to savour every moment because he never wants this to end. He winds his hands into Dean's hair, knocking off his cowboy hat, pulling him closer, trying so hard to convince him to stay, stay. Somehow, somewhere amongst everything, his mouth parts a little and Dean licks inside, finding Cas's tongue and twining with it, pulling at Cas's lower lip with his teeth. 

After a while - nowhere near long enough - Cas feels Dean pulling away. He cries out a little with anguish, ready to do anything, to surrender anything if only Dean would kiss him forever, would never let go. But he does, eventually, smiling a little at Cas's eagerness, reaching up to unwind Cas's hands from around his neck. He hauls Cas back up into a sitting position, and then they're both side by side again, looking out at the utterly stunned faces before them. 

"Um," Luke says into the silence, "that was... wow. Graphic." 

Lisa laughs a little hysterically. She turns to Dean, eyes wide. "I... didn't know you even... liked guys?"

Dean shrugs. "Now you do."

"Okay losers, let's keep the game going, it's not that weird. Just two dudes macking on each other." Meg says, annoyance in her tone. "Luke, for Christ's sake man, truth or dare?"

Castiel enters a trance-like state again for the entire duration of the next round. He feels Dean's hand slip back into his pants and he gasps again, heart speeding up. What the hell was that, anyway? Did Dean just sort-of-kind-of admit he likes Cas in front of everyone?

Dean's hand finds the waistband of his underwear and Cas lets out a small, strangled noise as his fingers slip beneath it, brushing over bare skin. He senses Dean's smirk. 

"Right, let's do this corner the same way shall we? Castiel first." Meg says, her voice order-like, bossy. She seems a little pissed off actually. Cas blinks; surely it can't be his turn again? It seemed like only seconds went by. "Truth or dare, Clarence?"

"Dare." Chokes out Cas as Dean's palm ghosts itself over his erection. 

"Hmm." Meg says, narrowing her eyes at him. Then she grins. "I dare you to kiss me, Clarence."

Cas splutters a little, and Dean's hand freezes in its movements - that's when he knows it's bad. He can't... He already kissed someone else in front of Dean tonight, and he's one hundred percent sure he's going to pay for that. 

"Meg, I can't."

"Why the Hell not?!" Meg asks indignantly. "Come on, it'll be over before you know it. Besides, I'm a _great_ kisser."

Castiel feels Dean's hand starting to slip out of his pants, stiffening, and Cas grits his teeth. "I _can't_ Meg."

Meg sighs, putting her drink down and standing up. She sidles over towards him, smiling in what she must believe is a seductive way. "Clarence, I know you want to. You've been flirting with me all night."

There are some whistles from around the room at that. Meg is very close to him now, and Castiel presses himself further back against the wall, away from her, very aware that Dean is right next to him, watching everything. "I can't kiss you."

"But why?" Meg asks, looking pouty. "I know you haven't got a partner - you just kissed Dean! Come on sweetie, just close your eyes."

Castiel panics, seeing Meg lean towards him, one of her knees pressing onto the mattress. "N-no, I-I forfeit! I forfeit." Cas cries, hands up in a surrender. Meg opens her eyes, looking even more pissed off now. 

"You hear that?!" Dean cries all of a sudden, louder than is probably necessary. He gets very close to Meg's face, intimidatingly close. "He forfeits. Game's over, that's the end, now everyone out!"

There's serious anger in Dean's voice now, searing through his words. Cas shrinks away from him, but he doesn't leave the bed, instead just watching as Dean jumps up, ushering people out with his hand movements.

People start to protest. "Dean, what are you-"

"I said get  _out._ " Dean yells, and people start to shift, murmuring in worried voices, heading quickly for the door. Meg straightens up, eyebrows raising, rolling her eyes at the spectacle. Cas jumps up too, just because he thinks that's best in the current situation, buttoning his fly as discreetly as possible, and heads to the exit with the rest. He gestures for Meg to go first, which she does, sighing, heading straight for the stairs. Castiel is about to step out himself when he feels himself being jerked backwards, a hand on his shoulder. _Dean_. 

Cas's heartbeat must sound like a hummingbird. He stares up at Dean, terrified, wondering what Hell is about to occur. Dean just steps back, crossing his arms, staring. He looks pretty menacing in that Sheriff outfit - Castiel would guess that his own outfit gives the exact opposite impression. 

"Dean, I-"

"Shut the door. Lock it." Dean orders, and Castiel has done this with Dean enough times to know to follow orders immediately. He can still hear the music thumping through the door even when it's shut, it's kind of eerie, but also in a way, reassuring. Task complete, he looks down in the general vicinity of Dean's shoes. There's a long pause, one that Castiel thinks he might die in - the suspense alone is killing him, and then Dean speaks, low and quiet. "You crashin' my party, Cas?"

Castiel looks up at Dean, meets his gaze. He tries to remember Gabriel's plan, but it all seems utterly ridiculous now. "I was invited."

Dean raises his eyebrows. "Is that so? Who invited you?"

Castiel gulps. "My brother." 

The tequila is certainly not helping this situation; Cas feels slightly like he wants to throw up. 

"Your brother is not the Alpha of this Fraternity." 

"I know." Cas replies quietly. "I guess I thought you wouldn't..."

"What?" Dean questions, stepping closer to Cas. "Wouldn't mind? You think I wouldn't mind you comin' in my house, drinkin' my alcohol, flirtin' with everything that moves?"

Dean hasn't raised his voice yet, and Castiel takes that as a good sign. He shrugs, his wings shrugging too;  he doesn't know what to say. Dean makes a good point. Suddenly, Cas is being shoved backwards, Dean right there with him, pushing him until he's up against the door, Dean's hand in his hair, ripping off his halo and pulling his head backwards a little way. It hurts mildly, but Cas doesn't care, all he can think of are those lips, so close to him right now, remembering how they pressed against his, not that long ago. 

"You're turning into a little whore, aren't you Cas?" Dean says, his voice spoken through a clench of teeth. "You like that girl Meg, huh? You think she's pretty?" Castiel tries to shake his head, but Dean is holding him tightly. "Why don't I go get her for you, yeah? Tell her how you're desperate for it, tell her about all the places on your body that make you squirm. Because I know that, Cas. Only I know."

Dean's hand slides under his open waistcoat then, slipping over his right nipple, making Cas gasp. "N-no, don't-- want her."

"No?" Dean asks, faux confusion on his face. "Ohhh, I know, you want that brainless British asshole, Balthazar isn't that right?"

"No, I swear-"

"I could get him too," Dean coos, his fingers pinching Cas's nipple now, rolling it in between his thumb and forefinger until Cas is keening, whining up at him, one hand helplessly clutching Dean's wrist, "I'll tell him you're begging to be fucked, that you're so desperate you'll throw yourself at anyone, open up your pretty little mouth," Dean releases Cas's nipple, reaching up to Cas's mouth and pushing his thumb inside it, "and take whatever anyone gives you, huh? Such a little slut, Cas, aren't you?"

Cas moans around Dean's thumb, sucking it into his mouth. Dean snarls at him, tearing his thumb away, releasing his hold on Cas's hair. 

"That's what I thought. Well, if that's what you want Cas, you won't care who's givin' it to you." Dean wipes his wet thumb on his waistcoat; he removed the jacket long ago, Cas can't remember when. He starts to push past Cas, trying to get to the door. "I'll go get Balthazar, he'll be more than happy-"

Castiel, panicking, suddenly clings to Dean, grabbing him by the arm. "Wait! No, please, Dean. I don't want Balthazar, I don't want Meg, I want  _you._ " 

Dean stares down at Cas pityingly. "You sure about that, Cas? It seems to me you wandered in here all tarted up," he runs his fingers over Cas's limp waistcoat, "practically beggin' for anyone to shove their cock in your mouth - hell, all the girls in here practically soaked their panties at the sight of you. You want them too? Wanna fuck them when they're all wet and soft for you, huh?"

"Dean, I did it for you." Castiel pleads desperately. "I only want you, please. God, I've never even wanted anyone as much as I want you."

Dean sighs, looking unsure. "I don't know Cas... Y'know, I think you'll have to prove it."

Cas stops tugging on Dean's arm for a second, meeting the older boy's eye. Dean is asking him to prove it? How the Hell is he going to do that? What can he offer Dean that he hasn't already given to him?

His dignity? Gone.

His free will? Gone.

His sense of purpose? Gone. 

Then he thinks of something. 

"Then Dean, _fuck_ me." Castiel pleads, and he can tell by the flash of something animalistic, something downright _feral_ in Dean's eyes that he wasn't prepared for that. 

"Come again?"

"Please Dean, no one ever has, I'll be yours, you'll be my first..." Cas leans up, raising himself onto tiptoes, trying to get closer to Dean. "You can ruin me Dean, for everyone else."

Dean seems to pause, running this proposition through his mind several times. A look of longing, accompanied by a deep lust blooms in the older boy's expression, and Dean tenses his jaw, eyes roaming over Cas's body. Cas is breathing so heavily that his chest is heaving - Dean releases the doorknob, turning back into the room. Success, Cas thinks, frantic.

"Get on the bed." Dean commands, and Castiel obeys at once, tripping in his haste to do as Dean asks. He sits where they were earlier on, near the head of the bed, facing Dean. Dean hasn't moved yet, he's just watching, one hand twitching by his side, a betrayal of his inner emotions. "Take off your shoes and lie down." 

Castiel does, and he tries not to look as Dean crosses the room, not towards him, instead towards that enormous cupboard of... things. Castiel turns his attention away, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about what might be in store. A long time ago Dean had promised that he would always enjoy the activities they participated in. Castiel is trusting him on that promise. 

He hears a clinking, and then Dean is crossing to the bed, leaning over him, his face darkened; he's standing in front of the dim overhead light. Dean grabs hold of Cas's wrist, pulling it up over Cas's head. Cas feels something being pressed around it, a cool metal, and then a clasp secures shut. Handcuffs, Cas thinks. His dick twitches in interest. 

Dean secures one set of cuffs to each wrist, and then ties them to the headboard. They are perfectly comfortable, Cas finds, experimenting, slightly padded so he doesn't chafe. He can't get free either. He pulls against them, testing; he's securely fastened. He shimmies up the bed a little with his legs, making it so he's able to bend his arms at each elbow. It's then that he notices Dean is still watching him, just staring. 

"Are you going to..." Cas asks tentatively, but he honestly doesn't know the end of that sentence. 

"You sure about this, Cas?" Dean asks, his voice sounding a little strained. Cas nods wordlessly, but it doesn't seem to satisfy Dean. 

Sure, it's a big decision, and sure, Cas is drunk - but so is Dean! How many kegstands did he even do?! The rumour is he did at least three. Maybe this is all going to be over quite quickly, Cas thinks, a tad amused. 

"I'm sure Dean. I want it to be you. I want to feel you." Cas's eyes slip closed. "God, I want it so much."

Dean shivers, Cas can barely see in the darkness, but he's sure it happened. "Are you gonna give yourself over to me? Allow me to inflict your..." Dean smirks very slightly, and weirdly it puts Cas at ease. "Punishment however I want?"

Castiel barely even hears the words - he just knows that he needs Dean right now, meant what he said before, needs to feel whole, to feel that unbelievable thing that is Dean, on top of him, under him, with him, _in him_... all of it. He nods solemnly, staring into Dean's eyes. "Yes. Yes."

Something flashes again in Dean's eyes, and this time his shudder is more noticeable. He takes off his waistcoat slowly, inch by inch, Castiel wriggling in his somewhat restricted position to try and see better. His mouth fills with saliva; Dean looks good in just a shirt. The belt buckle comes next, and the belt with it of course - Castiel bites his lip in longing, and Dean smiles. The loop of rope fastened to Dean's hip falls away in a heap on the floor.

"You like to watch, Cas?" 

Cas nods frantically, pulling against his handcuffs, just to make sure he can't escape and touch for himself. Dean toes off his shoes, his socks, and unbuttons his shirt slowly in the darkness, revealing inches of skin piece by piece until the shirt is hanging loose, open. He pulls it off, throwing it aside, and Cas's head lolls back against the pillow at the sight of Dean's bared torso. Exquisite, as always. 

Dean isn't quite so theatrical with his jeans, just shucking them off quickly and tossing them aside. He reaches out to Cas then, coming closer, his hand resting on the bared skin of Cas's stomach, smoothing over the planes of his chest. 

"Gorgeous." Dean murmurs. And then, so quiet Cas barely makes it out: "Mine."

Before Cas can react, Dean is clambering on top of him, leaving him breathless, pushing open Cas's legs and kneeling between them, leaning up and over him, staring down into his eyes. Cas tries to lift himself up to press his mouth to Dean's, because surely it's okay now, right? Now that they've already done it? But Dean moves quickly, pressing those elusive lips to Cas's clavicle, over his collarbone, sucking at his neck. 

It all seems fairly gentle, and then it's like Dean suddenly remembers. Like he realises what he's supposed to be doing, who he's supposed to be in this scenario. He leans back up over Cas's face, eyes scorching into him. 

"So you think this is gonna make up for it, Cas?" Dean asks, resting his crotch directly over Cas's, making him bite his lip. He pushes his hips forwards, grinding into Cas, sending sensations shooting through Cas's body, eliciting choked gasps from his lips. "You kiss some other guy in front of me, and you think you can just get away with it?"

Cas's eyes widen, zoning in on Dean's words. Dean ducks his head down, sucking at the skin just below Cas's ear, taking him by surprise. It's sharp, painful, a bite, and Cas cries out, the chains of the handcuffs rattling as he pulls against them. "Fuck, Dean I didn't mean-"

"Quiet." Dean hisses, pushing his hips forwards again. Cas moans, and Dean brings his face close once more, so close they're practically kissing. Cas surges upwards, again trying to capture Dean's lips again, but Dean pushes him back down with a hard shove against his chest. "You know that's against the rules, Cas. You're gonna stay still aren't you, you're not gonna try and kiss me again."

Cas moans in protest, but complies, and Dean lowers himself, so close to Cas's pleading face that his parted lips brush over Cas's skin. Just barely, teasing until Cas thinks he's going quite mad. Dean leans up then, and Cas bucks in frustration, pulling on his restraints. Dean's on his knees, between Cas's legs, and he reaches for Cas's fly. 

Castiel is all too willing to help Dean as he pulls off the white pants, though he has to wait patiently as Dean unties the gold belt, extracting the dagger tied there and inspecting it closely, raising his eyebrows at Cas in a suggestive way before placing it carefully on the floor. Then Dean pulls his pants downwards, shimmying them down his legs bit by bit, throwing them off the bed, and then his underwear too. Cas gulps. He's just wearing the waistcoat now - that and his wings. Dean studies every inch of him closely; Cas almost wishes he could cover himself, use his hands to shield himself from Dean's eyes. What is he thinking? Cas would die to know just that. 

Dean smirks at him then, pushing his hands forwards, over the planes of Cas's stomach, smoothing over his jutting hipbones. He leans in, and Castiel watches, utterly helpless, as Dean presses his lips to the soft skin of his groin, mouthing over his inner thighs, so close... so teasing. The sounds Castiel are making become erratic, stuttered, breathless. He lifts a leg to wrap around Dean, but it slips free when Dean's lower lip brushes over Cas's aching cock. 

Cas cries out; it's almost painful, the sensation of even that slightest touch of Dean's mouth gives him. He bucks his hips forwards, searching for more, desperate, hard and leaking uncontrollably. Dean is relentless in his torment, pinning Cas's hips down, his mouth travelling everywhere but the one place Castiel needs him - lips peppering kisses against his thighs, biting - sometimes hard - along the bones of his hips, sucking marks into the skin where his pelvis meets his stomach...

"Dean, God -  _please."_ Castiel cries, the word 'desperation' taking on an entirely new meaning for him. 

"You said you'd give yourself to me, Cas." Dean says in response, looking up through thick dark lashes, the bright green just filtering through. "I get to do what I want." Dean runs the very tip of his tongue up the underside of Cas's cock; Cas nearly tears up from it. "And I want to take you apart. Slow."

Cas moans, trying to buck his hips again, but Dean's grip is strong. "I want you so badly, Dean..."

Dean makes a noise of approval, a throaty 'mmm', that Cas imagines he can feel vibrating through him. "And then, after I've taken you to pieces, Cas," Dean's mouth presses itself gently to the tip of Cas's cock, his tongue swiping up the fluid that's gathered there; Cas practically yells, tugging his handcuffs so hard he thinks he might break his own wrists, "after that, I'm gonna open you up, and I'm gonna slide into you, Cas. And I'm gonna fuck you, nice and gentle, but real deep, so you can feel me there even when I'm not."

Castiel moans, a litany of pleas tumbling out of his mouth in a rush, urging Dean to do just this, to do more. 

"I'm gonna fuck you until you scream for me, Cas." Dean's mouth sucks another careful, slightly painful mark into a spot just above his hip. "It'll be so good you won't be able to think about anything else. Or anyone else. You'll feel me after, for days... and anytime anyone even talks to you, you're gonna remember, Cas." Dean stares up at Cas over the younger boy's heaving chest, and their eyes lock. "That you're mine." 

Dean grins wickedly then, and before Cas can even say a word, Dean is wrapping his mouth around his cock, letting Cas slide into him, until he can feel the back of Dean's throat. It's warm, damp, so indescribably soft - everything Cas knew it would be, but so, so much better... Dean sucks once, and Cas comes instantly, the shock of it making his muscles seize up, making him grip the chains of his handcuffs as he cries out through the feeling. It doesn't help that Dean swallows him down, completely unfazed, not a drop spilled. Cas looks down just in time to see Dean's mouth still wrapped around him and he gives a final spurt, just at this image. 

Dean pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand, smirking down at Cas's limp, whimpering frame. 

"Well, look at that." Dean says, his voice taking on a cruel lilt. "You're in pieces."

Castiel breathes heavily, trembling as Dean's hands stroke their way over his chest, up over his shoulders, until his fingers are curled in the feathers of his wings. 

"Dean, please..." Cas whispers, feeling weak and vulnerable. He glances down at the tent in Dean's boxers, groaning a little. "Please, let me touch you." 

Dean chuckles darkly, licking his lips - for pure torture, Cas is sure. "Aw, Cas - you think I'm an idiot?" Dean asks, smiling. "I know how much you love touchin' me. Don't forget angel, you're in a whole heap o'trouble for what you did tonight."

Cas sucks in a breath, realising that Dean has barely even started his punishment yet. Looks like he's not getting out of the cuffs anytime soon. 

"Now stay right here, darlin'." Dean says, and Cas registers movement from behind his fluttering eyelids. How is he going to survive this night? "I'll be right back."

_WHAT._

Castiel's brain short-circuits. "What?!" He cries, alarmed, realising that Dean is indeed getting off the bed. Castiel starts wriggling helplessly, tugging hard on the cuffs holding him in place. "Dean, you can't _leave._ " 

Dean chuckles, pulling on his jeans and a zip-hoodie. "I'll be right back, Cas! Just relax. No one'll come in. Well, probably."

And with that, Dean jogs to the door, ignoring Cas's protests completely, unlocking it and slipping through, winking at him for good measure. Castiel freezes, taking immediate stock of his situation. Right, so he's butt-naked (apart from his wings and waistcoat), handcuffed to Dean Winchester's bed in an unlocked room, in a house  _filled_ with drunken party-goers. Yeah, he's royally fucked. 

Castiel yanks on his restraints again helplessly - it's no use, these handcuffs aren't going to break. They clearly aren't the amateur "beginner" sexual-play item that Cas might have bought had he for some unfathomable reason been going into a sex shop and purchasing handcuffs. No, these are the hardcore, you'll-need-to-chew-your-own-arm-off-to-get-free kind of restraints. 

Dean Winchester, Cas thinks, panting, he is going to  _murder_ that beautiful, sadistic asshole. 

It's at that point that - joy of joys! - Cas first hears the unmistakeable and abhorrent sound of the distant party noises gradually getting closer. There are drunken laughs, crashes and footsteps in the hallway, Cas thinks, one ear cocked upwards, listening, and then- yep, those are definitely voices he can hear  _right outside the door._ Cas screws his eyes shut, considering a prayer. 

"Keep it in your pants, señorita - at least for the time being. I'll find us an empty room." Slurs the voice with a leering drawl. 

Oh of course, Castiel thinks, practically laughing with hysteria and panic - it's  _Gabriel._ Instead of a random Fraternity or Sorority member that Castiel doesn't know stumbling in on him in this rather compromising position - which is bad enough - it's going to be his  _brother._ Seemingly very soon. 

"Gabe!" Complains the other voice - this one is female. Cas vaguely wonders which girl Gabriel has managed to trick into coming upstairs with him. Did that stupid 'YouTube video' sketch honestly work? "I thought-" She hiccups violently. "-I thought you  _lived_ here! Why can't we just do it in your room?"

She's very whiny, Cas thinks, caught up in his brother's girl drama for a second, momentarily forgetting his plight. Then the doorknob rattles unmistakably. Castiel twists and turns, heart in his throat, trying in vain to cover himself with his own legs. If Gabriel walks in on him right now he will  _literally_ never live it down - the torment will be unrelenting, Gabriel will never stop. 

"Relax baby girl," Gabriel coos, still twisting the door handle, "I lent my room out to... a friend. But as long as Mr Alpha isn't in here, we're all good."

Castiel wonders if he could imitate Dean's voice, shout at Gabriel from this side of the door - but he would never be convincing enough. Gabe would know it was him straight away. He stays silent, praying desperately. 

"Dean-o?" Gabriel calls, knocking on the door and sniggering. "Oh mighty leader, are you gettin' it on in there?"

There's a pause, where Gabriel waits for Dean's reply. When he hears nothing, there's more sniggering, and the sound of a wet kiss. Castiel wrinkles his nose in disgust. Then the doorknob rattles again, this time twisting all the way. Castiel bangs his head on the pillow in despair. Yep, this is the moment he will die. 

"Woah, woah, woah!" Dean's voice, annoyed, also from behind the closed door. Castiel jerks his head up in wonder, hope springing up inside of him. "What the Hell d'you think you're playin' at?! Last time I checked this is my room, Trickster. Get outta here!"

Castiel hears his brother's annoyed grumbling, but he also hears the unmistakable sound of retreating footsteps, like music to his ears. Castiel's muscles relax, a solitary tear of relief slithering out of one eye. It's a minute or so before the door opens and Dean steps inside, a huge grin on his stupid, stupid face. 

"You  _asshole."_ Cas hisses at him, trying to slow the pounding of his heart. "Where the Hell did you go?! You can't just leave in the middle of-"

Dean holds up a hand to silence him, and Castiel, pissed off and extremely reluctant, falls silent. He's not in much of a position to argue right now. Dean locks the door without turning round. 

"Close call, huh?" Dean says unnecessarily, still smiling. "Wow, of all the people..." Cas just glares at him, and Dean chuckles. "Relax alright? I was just gettin' some... preparations." 

Castiel eyes him sceptically, and Dean sighs, pulling out two objects from the pocket of his hoodie. He throws them on the bed, one by one, and Cas strains to see what they are. The first is a bottle of lube, not flavoured this time, but a lot bigger than the one Cas has in his own room. Cas blushes immediately, fidgeting. The next object is a packet of 'Extra Large' condoms that are apparently 'Ribbed For Her Pleasure'. Castiel blushes a deeper shade, which makes Dean smile. 

"I- um..." Castiel says; he's calmed down a bit now that he has seen what Dean went to do, but he doesn't quite buy it. 

"Lemme guess - you're thinkin' why the Hell don't I have a full stock of this in here?" Dean asks, reading his mind. He chuckles. "I get it... I do have a cupboard that's basically the showroom of a sex shop." 

Castiel tries to shrug as if he barely even cares, but the handcuffs make this difficult and he probably just looks like he's spasming. Dean chuckles harder. 

"Well, apart from me disappearing briefly being part of what's becoming an excellent punishment..." Dean begins, grinning away. "Y'see the thing is, I gave away my personal brand new bottle of lube to someone recently..." Dean says, winking at him, and to Castiel's disbelief, starts unzipping his hoodie.

"And the condoms..." Dean continues, shrugging out of it. "Well I wasn't totally sure if we'd need em - I can only give you my word that I'm totally clean - just got myself checked -" Dean winks again, throwing the hoodie aside, and Cas stares, unabashed, at the sight of his once again naked chest, "obviously you're not gonna have anything cause you've never..."

Dean trails off, looking over at Cas suddenly, a dark desire flooding his eyes. He licks his lips, and Castiel lets out a fractured little moan. "Um, so... yeah. If you wanted to though, I totally... um..." Dean seems to have lost his train of thought somewhat, his eyes raking hungrily over Cas's body as if he's just remembered all the things he can do to it. "...understand."

Castiel tries to reach for him - he tries damn hard, but it's no use, he only succeeds in making himself look foolish. Though funnily enough, this time Dean doesn't laugh at him. Instead, he unbuttons his jeans, stepping out of them, and then, because apparently Dean is trying to kill him, he shucks off his underwear too. Dean is already hard - how is that even possible? Cas's  _hands are tied._ In that instance however, he doesn't care, he just groans unashamedly, trying again to pull himself closer to the man standing too far away from him, even though he knows it's no use. 

"You ready for your next punishment, Cas?" Dean says, his voice strange and hoarse. Castiel, who has already begun to grow hard again, nods frantically, his hands clenching and unclenching, as if grabbing at the air itself. Dean steps closer to him, getting up on the bed. He pulls Cas's legs apart again, kneeling between them like he was before. For a split second, as Cas stares into the majesty of Dean's face, he sees something akin to reverence in his expression, but it fades fast, replaced by that practically omnipresent grin of pure mischief. 

Dean dives forwards, pressing his mouth over Cas's body anywhere and everywhere he can, starting with his neck, in that same spot where Castiel seems to be getting a permanent bruise, then running his tongue across the plains of Cas's chest, sucking softly on the skin, grasping at Cas's waist as the younger boy writhes beneath him. He continues downwards, Dean's incredible tongue tracing patterns of fire over Cas's stomach, his sides, his hips... Dean's nails rake down Cas's waist, and Cas gasps, choking slightly on his own breath. 

"Fu-uck..." Cas spits out, mouth open in response to the sensations Dean is creating along parts of himself he'd never considered remotely sexual. Dean is doing exactly as he promised, taking him apart, piece by piece, his tongue running along the seams where he tears at Cas's flesh, gluing him back together. "Dean, oh..."

Dean smiles against the skin of his hip, and without warning, he seals his mouth over Cas's erection again - something that makes Cas jerk forward violently, and he's pretty sure he sprained his shoulder, but he couldn't give a fuck. Dean's mouth feels even better the second time somehow - it's slower, more teasing, his tongue working on him from inside that warm, damp cavern...

Cas cries out as Dean takes him deeper, his mouth tormentingly slack, just brushing his lips over the skin of the shaft. " _Dean..._ " Castiel cries helplessly, his hips shoving themselves forward of their own accord, and Dean gags a little, hit with the element of surprise. Castiel freezes, an apology on his lips, and Dean pulls off, staring up at Cas and narrowing his eyes. His lips twist in a cruel smile. 

"Shouldn't'a done that, Cas." 

"I-I didn't mean to, I-"

Dean takes old of Castiel's thighs, his hands sliding round the back of them, lifting them easily, his strength so evident it cuts Cas off mid-sentence. God, Dean is hot. How the Hell is this even happening?!

Dean's mouth returns to Castiel's cock, and any train of thought in the younger boy's mind flies straight out the window. He flops back onto the pillow, groaning, as Dean's tongue flattens across the underside of his dick, licking in short, broad strokes. To his surprise, Dean's mouth travels further downwards, and he hooks Cas's legs over his shoulders, freeing up his hands. Cas gasps out his approval, shimmying a little to make it more comfortable, his hips raised slightly in the air, his thighs clamped around Dean's neck. Dean's mouth covers his balls, sucking at the skin of them, taking each one softly into his mouth and pulling gently, until Cas is writhing, chanting Dean's name like a mantra. 

But Dean keeps going, his mouth continuing its downward path, and his hands start to pull apart Cas's cheeks-

"Woah!" Cas cries out, wriggling a little in alarm, head flying forwards to see what Dean is up to. "Dean, I don't, uh-"

Dean looks up at him, his expression drenched in a layer of heavy lust. "Trust me, Cas." He intones, and Cas fumbles, knowing he has to. He doesn't want to stop, doesn't want to utter his safe word. He's just... concerned.

"Y-you don't need to-"

Dean exhales sharply, clearly annoyed. Castiel feels the puff of air ghosting across strange places - it makes him squirm. "Cas," Dean grits out, "unless you say one specific word right now, I will be punishing you however I damn well want, you got that?"

Castiel throws his head back, helpless. "Yes."

And with that affirmation, Dean delves right back in, his mouth pressing itself between the globes of Castiel's buttocks, inching downwards, practically kissing against the unmarred skin there until-

"Oh!" Castiel gasps, jumping as Dean's exquisite lips brush over a particularly sensitive spot. Dean's mouth lingers there for a moment, and then Cas feels the first flick of a tongue. His eyes roll back in his head, toes curling and he moans. "Oh...  _fuck."_

This, of all sexual activities, is one Castiel never really thought he'd enjoy. But the feeling of Dean's tongue,  _there,_ in such an intimate place, tasting and licking against him... it's utterly indescribable. His own reservations seem to add a sense of 'forbidden fruit' to the experience, the shockwaves that each flick of Dean's tongue send undulating through him increasing tenfold. His foot starts to cramp; he's clenching his toes too tightly. 

"Ughhh," Cas groans out, sweat beading on his forehead, his face growing warm, "Dean, that feels... _ah!_ "

Dean's tongue pushes forwards, searching and insistent, pressing through the tight ring, penetrating him just slightly. The tongue retreats and Castiel whines in protest, so Dean huffs a breathy laugh that feels like a burst of pure bliss, and pushes back in. His tongue delves deeper, exploring, and Castiel can't keep still - he writhes and tenses, his body beginning to shake uncontrollably. He had no idea that pleasure like this existed, had no inkling that Dean could draw this kind of feeling from within him, and he wonders if it's the act that's making him react so violently, or if it's the fact that Dean himself is performing it.

All too soon, Dean draws away, smiling up at Cas cheekily. Castiel can see that Dean himself is not unaffected; his cheeks are rouged and shiny, the ends of his hair dark with perspiration. Cas has never seen him look more perfect. 

Cas is so ridiculously aroused now, he can't think straight, he needs release seemingly more than he needs oxygen - if the way he keeps gasping is anything to go by. Dean crawls up over him, and it helps nothing, especially when Cas's leaking erection trails a line of precome across the plains of Dean's abs. Dean leans over him, staring down into Cas's face, relishing this moment. 

"You're fuckin' incredible, Cas." Dean whispers, and the words on their own are akin to an orgasm in a different sense. Dean really needs to stop being so nice to him. He's only going to grow attached. Dean plants a kiss to Cas's forehead, not seeming to care that he's sweaty and disgusting. Dean leans backwards, a slightly wild look in his eyes. Castiel sucks in a breath. "Whose are you?"

Castiel stops breathing. Dean's eyes bore down on him, their flushed skin pressing together at the waist, their legs tangled... What is Dean asking him? Is it part of the game? Cas looks into Dean's irises, swimming with need that he doesn't understand. Has he succeeded after all in this ridiculous Gabrielesque plan? Is Dean _jealous_?

"Yours?" Castiel whispers tentatively, and Dean digs his fingers into Cas's shoulders. "Ah!" Cas cries, the jolt of unexpected pain catching him off guard. "Yours! I'm yours, of course I am!"

Dean stares at him then, eyes sparkling in wonderment. "Damn straight, y'little slut."

Then he's moving away slightly, his fingers dribbling over Cas's stomach, over his hips, in between his legs. He presses softly against the place where he was just laving, making Cas cry out again, his chest rising into the air. Dean's other hand reaches blindly for something, his eyes not leaving Cas's face. He grabs hold of the lube, and Cas groans wantonly, watching and practically breathless as Dean pops the cap one handed, bringing up his other hand to squeeze the gel onto. 

He doesn't bother warming it up this time, he just reaches down, his slippery finger smoothing over the hole, and then pushing inside, merciless. Cas shouts a curse, possibly in Latin, he can't tell, though it might explain the way Dean is laughing at him. Nothing, not the plug, not his own inferior digits, compares to Dean's finger inside of him, sliding deliberately back and forth, plunging deeper with every push. 

Cas pushes his hips downwards as best he can, working himself onto Dean's finger, moaning. "Dean, oh  _fuck,_ yeah..."

Cas doesn't know what he's saying anymore; it seems completely irrelevant that he needs to make sense at this point. Dean slips another finger in, and Cas tenses a little as he's stretched, eyes closed tightly.

"You really like this huh, Cas?" Dean asks breathlessly, eyes fixed on Cas as he writhes about. 

"So... so good..." Cas utters, his face screwing up a little as he continues to thrust downwards, or try to at least. He settles his eyes on Dean, pulling his handcuffs to their furthest point, trying hard to reach forwards and touch him. It's useless of course. "More, Dean. _More_."

Dean sucks in a breath, eyes slipping closed for a moment. "Fuckin' hell." He does as he's asked though, adding a third finger easily, Cas swallowing him up, crying out as he feels himself being opened, widened, knowing what's coming. "You little slut." Dean whispers, his voice practically a snarl, and Cas jerks, looking at Dean in surprise. "You love it. You love takin' my fingers, don't you? I bet you'd like anything I gave you, huh? You like it if I jerked off onto you, Cas? Shot my load all over your pretty pale skin?"

Castiel stills, mouth open, trying to comprehend what Dean is saying. His brain stutters into action and he moans loudly, desperately. "Fuck  _yes,_ Dean. Do it."

Cas leans forward as far as he can, knowing in his very soul that he  _has_ to see this, needs to witness this moment. Needs it more than air. He sees for the first time that Dean has been touching himself, probably not for long or even with any fervour, but his hand is stroking slowly over his brightly flushed erection, all as his other hand works itself in and out of Cas. 

He groans, cursing himself for being too caught up in the sensations of Dean's fingers inside him to notice this perfect thing that's happening right in front of him. Dean is biting his lip, jerking himself slowly, and he grins when he hears Cas responding to his question. He slides his fingers out of Cas without mercy, his fingertips catching the raw rim of Cas's hole, sparking electricity through his being so that he shakes. 

Dean leans forward then, knees pressing right against Cas's groin, and he uses one hand to steadily pump his own cock, Cas's eyes fixated on it, entranced. Dean smiles down at Cas for a moment, loving the sight of him laid out beneath, and then he tips his head back, moaning once, Cas tugging desperately on his restraints because to have Dean so close, to see him pleasuring himself in such proximity and to not be able to touch is  _torture._

"Tell me..." Dean says, panting, still staring up at the ceiling. "Tell me what you wanna do to me, Cas."

Cas whines, frustrated beyond measure. "I want to touch you, Dean. I want it-" Cas rattles his handcuffs hard, huffing. "I want it so much. I want to taste you again, I want to wrap my lips around you and suck you until you can't hold on any longer..." Castiel whimpers at this point, seeing how Dean is dripping beads of precome. "But mostly Dean..." Cas bites his lips. "I really, _really_ want you to _fuck_ me." Dean groans, chest flushing. "I want you to do all the things you said, I want to feel you in me, I want you to fill me up-"

It happens suddenly; Dean groans and sways a little, using his unoccupied hand to brace himself on Cas's chest, and then he's coming, hard. A stream of white shoots out of him, smattering over Cas's chest, his neck, droplets fly up to Cas's chin. It takes him by surprise and he lies there for a moment, open mouthed, realising he can taste Dean; there's a pearl of come glistening on his lower lip. 

Dean breathes hard, as if he's just climbed a mountain, one hand still wrapped around his dick. He looks up at Cas, and at first there's hesitance in his expression, but it quickly melts into that 'devil-may-care' expression. Cas can't seem to think past the words 'Dean just came on me' and 'Unbelievably hot'. Adding to the rapidly growing list of things Castiel didn't know he had a kink for: cumshots. 

"You like that, angel?" Dean pants after a moment, sinking back on his haunches, already moving his hand back down to where he'd been prepping Cas, smirking. Castiel bucks his hips, speechless with want. He nods desperately.

If he could talk, he'd be letting Dean know that were he not tied up right now, he'd be licking himself clean. And Dean. _O_ _bviously._

Instead, he lets his head fall back against the pillow, feeling the sweat trailing in rivulets down his neck. He expects Dean to start up again, not going near his cock because this is his  _punishment_ and he's not allowed to have it be over quite so quickly. No, Cas understands now, Dean calls the shots- he's going to finger Cas until he's out of his mind, getting him worked up into a state he never believed possible, and then, maybe -  _maybe_ he'll actually fuck him. 

So yeah, he expects fingers, but instead, he feels something cold pressing against him, something hard and smooth - instinctively Cas clenches, going rigid. Dean shushes him soothingly, running a moist hand over his thigh. "Shh, angel. Relax. Just thought we'd have a little fun with your toys for a change."

Huh? Cas thinks. _His_ toys? He doesn't have any toys - not the kind Dean is referring to anyway. Well, aside from the one Dean gave to him and that's at home in his room. He struggles to lean forwards again, practically yanking his arms out of his sockets, trying to see what Dean is holding. He flushes when Dean holds it up, twiddling it in one hand. His Angel Sword. 

Cas actually lets out a breathy laugh, thinking Dean is joking. But Dean just smirks at him again, and Castiel's eyes widen. He looks carefully at the sword - it's plastic sure, but  _pointy_ in a slim cone shap;, it looks pretty menacing. Dean stops twirling it and inspects the thing upside down, eyes trained on the handle, not the blade. Cas relaxes a little, but only a little! This thing is a prop, a cheap bit of cleverly shaped PVC painted silver - and Dean is going to do  _what_ with it exactly?! 

The handle of the sword is rounded, cylindrical, less intimidating at the very least, and Castiel bites his lip. He doesn't want to voice his reservations like he did before - he still trusts Dean not to hurt him, and resisting his punishment without using the safe word will only make Dean mad. So he holds his tongue, handing himself over to fate as he sinks reluctantly back down, forcing himself to relax. He can practically feel the air shift as Dean grins, noticing Cas's acquiescence. 

Dean trails the end of the sword lightly over Cas's quivering hole, teasing him, and Cas can't help but think how it's going to feel if Dean pushes it inside of him, how it would fill him up, brush over places that would make him squirm and plead... He relaxes further. Yeah, this might not be so bad. Dean stops his movements, and Cas lays still, wondering if Dean's going to give him any warning or-

He yelps as Dean lightly passes the tip of the blade over Cas's untouched erection, damp and strained with the need for his release. "Fuck, fuck - Dean, please..." Cas stammers, unable to cope with even the barest of touches against him right now unless Dean is damn well going to  _do_ something about it. 

Dean chuckles, moving the sword back into position, handle-first, and he pushes gently, leaning up a little so that he can see Cas's face. Cas holds his breath as the sword enters him, and he can't deny - it feels incredible. It's strange, cold - kind of like the plug, and it only makes him want Dean more.

"Fuck me," Cas begs, and Dean closes his eyes as Cas says it, misinterpreting. He moves the sword further in, firm but gentle, tunnelling into him before sliding out a little way, Cas moaning at the feel of it. "Dean fuck me, I need it," Cas cries again, and Dean hisses through his teeth, continuing to plunge the sword in and out, turning the angle of it just as Cas's eyes begin to well up with tears of frustration and pleasure. 

Cas cries out, jackknifing again and really almost succeeding in amputating his own limbs, but Dean has found that  _place_ inside him, is stroking the blade over it gently, and Cas's dick is sore with the intensity of it, pearling beads of precome that slither down the length of him. Dean notices, cursing, and Cas's eyes flick to Dean's own cock, noticing with wonder through his cries that Dean is already hard again. 

"Dean!" Cas cries, trying to get his attention. "I need _you_ , no toys, no more please- just fuck me already."

Dean's jaw clenches, and it's obvious he's trying hard not to react; this is still meant to be a punishment after all, and he's still supposed to be the one in control. But he's breaking, Cas can see, and he grits his teeth, praying that Dean will crack, that he'll give in. The older boy opens his mouth, not stopping his movements. "Say it again, slut." 

Cas's eyes leak another tear. "Fuck me." He chokes out, truly at the end of his tether. "Please."

Dean stares into his eyes for a few moments. "Fuck it." He says, just after Cas has the brief, fearful thought that he might die of overstimulation. 

Dean pulls out the Angel sword, throwing it over his shoulder without looking; Cas vaguely hears it hit something hard and bounce off. Dean is cursing under his breath over and over, his hands amongst the rumpled bedclothes; it takes Cas a minute to realise he is searching for something. He groans  - not more toys, God he's going to die here. 

"Aha!" Dean yells, holding a box triumphantly in front of him, and immediately starting to rip into it with his teeth. Cas stares with a crumpled forehead. Then he sees what it is - the box of condoms. He groans again, kicking at Dean's fumbling hands holding the box. 

"Leave them." Cas growls, and Dean looks over at him, surprised.

Cas is a little surprised at himself; it's the first order he's given Dean really, and he readies himself for being shut down, for further torture. Instead, Dean hurls the box away in a similar direction to the sword, swearing again. 

Dean crawls forwards, picking Cas's legs up like they're feather light and wrapping them around his waist. He glances up at Cas as he does this, breathing hard whenever he looks into Cas's eyes. Cas bites his lip, tasting blood and not caring, moments away from passing out (again) if Dean doesn't hurry the fuck up and-

" _Ohhh."_  Cas says in a fractured voice, at least an octave above his own. 

He can feel the head of Dean's cock, pressing gingerly against him, utterly unlike anything else. It's hot, burning even, smooth and wet with Dean's own fluids, and so  _big._ Cas can't help himself, using his legs wrapped around Dean as leverage, he pulls himself forwards, pushing Dean into him, opening him wide. 

 _"Fuck,_ " Dean hisses, hands clamping down on Cas's hips, pinning him to the bed; he pulls him up again soon after though, angling himself, "take it easy gorgeous, this is-" he sucks in a breath as he slides in deeper, his helmet all the way inside, " _jesus,_ this is your first-  _oh fuck._ "

Cas is wriggling desperately now, trying to break out of Dean's vice like hold, to speed the process along, to get Dean all the way inside him and clamp down. But Dean pulls out, his face tormented, looking like that act in itself almost broke him. 

"I said..." Dean huffs out, not looking Cas in the eye, sounding almost in pain. " _Calm down_. Let me handle this." His eyes flick to Cas's for the first time, a hint of that mischief still visible. He smirks weakly. "I know what I'm doin'. I'll make it good, I swear."

Cas moans loudly, stilling himself with considerable effort. It's worth it though; Dean pushes back in, and Cas gasps for air, clutching the chains of his cuffs again. Dean slides further this time, and it burns a little - Dean is bigger, it would seem, than the handle of an Angel Sword - but it's the best kind of pain Cas can imagine. This is  _Dean_ inside of him, pressing himself into him - he's slotting them together like two jigsaw pieces, and it's utterly incredible. 

Dean's eyes are closed, he's muttering something Cas can't hear as he presses forwards relentlessly - _achingly_ slowly. It takes a long moment for Dean to push all the way inside, and Cas wonders if he might split apart from it; it feels as though Dean is stretching his seams, like he's about to burst into galaxies of ecstasy. And then he feels skin against his buttocks, and realises Dean is buried inside him all the way, right up to the hilt. Cas has never felt more complete in his lifetime. He wonders if that means he was missing something all along.

As soon as Dean starts to move, every philosophical, romantic thought in Cas's head seems to fly far away, and all he can feel is the friction, the slide of Dean moving inside him, inching in and out with short, gentle jabs. Cas groans, wondering frantically if this is how it feels when Dean is 'taking it easy', what must it be like when he isn't? Cas's eyes roll back in his head at the thought. 

"Mmmmm!" Cas says wordlessly, meaning to spew encouragements but realising his lips are pressed together. He opens them, panting. "Fuck, yes Dean- m-more!"

Dean shudders and Cas feels the tremors running through him, like an earthquake disturbing the filthiest corners of his libido. "More?" Dean asks brokenly, and he draws back further with his hips this time, almost pulling all the way out. Cas doesn't have time to catch his breath before Dean slams back in, eliciting an almost inhuman cry from Cas's mouth. 

"Ah!" Cas yells, as Dean does it again, and then another time. "Yes, more - harder,  _fuck-_ "

Dean has clearly decided the 'taking it easy' option is long expired by now, his thrusts becoming sharper, firmer, lifting Cas's hips higher until he's found the right angle. Cas thinks he might have screamed at that point were his voice not growing hoarse. He has no choice but to lay back, trembling and crying out as Dean massages that spot over and over with the head of his cock, his thrusts becoming erratic, unrestrained.

"God,  _Cas-_ " Dean chokes out, his nails beginning to dig in to Cas's hips. "Whose are you, Cas?" There's a pause - Cas is uncertain again with his response, as well as being almost unable to think of it. "Come on sweetheart," Dean begs, clearly getting close to release now, pushing inside Cas over and over, "say it, please."

Cas whines a little. "Yours Dean," he says hoarsely, "I'm yours."

Cas isn't prepared for the sensation of Dean's come filling him, it's something he's never really even considered. But Dean cries out as though he's been punched in the gut, _shot_ even - his scream of release swimming in the room around them, and Cas cries out too as the spurt of Dean's seed hits his prostate, floods him completely. He doesn't come though, and he's never been in more pain from it, he feels like he's on the precipice of death, in another world entirely. Dean is still inside of him, yet he won't come. It's like the worst kind of torture. 

And then Dean touches him, just once, just grasping him with that incredible firm hand, and Cas swears to God he sees Heaven for a moment. He comes again and again, hardly aware of himself, or Dean - only the unending flashes of bliss that radiate through him, sending spurts of white into upwards into the air, landing wherever. 

He blacks out again. But he hardly cares. This was a dream anyway, surely. It has to have been.

The last thing he consciously feels is a soft kiss against his temple. Yeah, definitely dreaming, Cas thinks, drifting into unconsciousness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

When Castiel blinks awake, the room he's in is dark and still. He's in a bed that's not his own, under a duvet, and there's something on his back, something scratchy... Castiel's brain stirs into awareness - oh right, the wings. Then he freezes, remembering. The memories of the past evening hurl themselves at him like rocks, exploding into vivid colour right before his eyes.

Oh my  _God,_ Castiel thinks, both wanting to curl up from humiliation and simultaneously combust from pure happiness. 

Then he feels stupid. He realises that of course he's in  _Dean's room_ right now, still. In his bed. He moves his hands, panicking slightly, but finds them free and mobile - the handcuffs gone. He's laid on his side, facing the wall, but he can't see a thing - Dean must have left, surely, must have gone back to the party. Castiel listens, holding his breath for a moment - there's no sound from outside the door. Has the party ended? What time must it be?

Then something shifts the dark air in front of his nose, and Cas almost squeaks in fear. Dean is still here - is laying beside him, presumably asleep. What should he do?! Castiel knows very well that Dean is not a 'stay-the-night' kind of guy. He should leave, he thinks, nodding to himself very slightly. He tries hard to ignore the realisation that he's actually lying  _against_ Dean - pressed against his right arm, their bare legs tangled together in the warmth. 

No, he should definitely leave. Castiel starts to draw away, finding himself overcome with tiredness, wondering if he's going to make it back to his room alright or if he'll pass out on the way. Maybe he'll just sleep in Gabriel's room... but didn't he overhear Gabe say that he was 'lending his room to a friend'? Cas knows what that means. Also, where the heck are all Cas's clothes?! He's never going to find them in the dark. He sighs - he has to try. 

He's just rolling over slowly, lifting the covers, when he feels Dean shift. He tenses, willing Dean not to wake. Instead, Dean's hand jabs at his back, and with a fair amount of prodding he slides his arm under Cas's side, wrapping it around his chest and pulling sharply. Cas has already experienced Dean's jock strength but in an entirely different scenario - this takes him by surprise. He falls backwards, his back crashing into Dean's chest, finding Dean's arm tightening around him. 

"Mm." Dean grunts, still not waking. Cas wonders what he should do now. There's no way out of this situation, he tells himself, quieting the arguments in his mind - he simply  _has_ to stay here, in Dean's arms, all night long. There's just no other way. He smiles a little, and turns, rolling over to face Dean, the older boy's arm clasping at his back now. Cas slips his own hand over Dean's chest, staring up in awe at where he's just starting to be able to make out Dean's face in the darkness, as his eyes adjust. 

Man, this is comfortable, thinks Cas, his eyelids already drooping. Surely Dean won't mind if... Well, Cas can explain in the morning. 

* * *

The second time Cas wakes up, it's a slower, much nicer process starting with him, eyes still closed, knowing exactly what he's going to find when he opens them. He smiles before looking, wondering if there's a more pleasant way to start off a morning than in Dean Winchester's arms. 

He blinks his eyes open sleepily, and Dean is laid on his back still, face turned towards him, staring at him, amused. Castiel's eyes widen, and he jerks backwards a little way. "Dean! You're awake - I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stay over, I just... you- your hand, um..."

Dean snorts a little, but somehow it's still an attractive movement. Cas looks away; he doesn't know if he can deal with any more punishment right now. "Cas, it's cool," Dean tells him, and reaches to place a finger under his chin, tilting his face up, and Dean smirks, "panda eyes."

Cas blinks, uncomprehending. Oh fuck, the eyeliner, he remembers, eyes fluttering shut as he groans. And oh wow, it hurts to make noise. His throat feels like someone's burned it. He must have been yelling pretty hard last night. Great, more embarrassment. 

Castiel opens his eyes - now that he thinks about it, his throat isn't the only thing that hurts. He brings a wrist out of the covers to inspect, and his mouth falls open a little. Dean sucks a breath in at the sight. The skin around his wrist is rubbed and red, the imprints of the cuffs still visible on his skin. He lifts his other hand out too, finding it exactly the same. 

"Shit, Cas... that- that looks pretty bad, man." Dean says sympathetically, and to Cas's surprise, Dean takes one of Cas's hands, gingerly, careful not to brush his fingers over the wounds. "You should've said if they were hurtin' you." Dean's face falls, a look of failure flashing in his eyes. His voice drops to a lower decibel. "I didn't wanna hurt you."

Castiel needs to do some immediate damage control here - he's not sure what's happening, but it looks as though Dean is... unhappy with himself. Angry, even. "I didn't even realise." Castiel admits, and it's the honest truth. "I suppose I wasn't really focused on the pain..." Cas blushes, and he succeeds in catching Dean's eye. "You were distracting me. If I recall."

Dean laughs. "Can you blame me? You're easily distracted. And you looked so good like that." Dean bites his lip, not even looking away from Cas as he remembers. He keeps hold of Cas's hand. "Did you have fun last night, Cas?"

Cas nods, slightly unsure of the correct answer here. Of course he did - _understatement -_  but there were some parts of the night he would rather forget... Balthazar for one. Meg and Ruby pouring tequila over him, that can also become a repressed memory any time it wants. 

Dean grins at him. "Me too." He pauses, turning to face Cas, their heads side by side on the pillow; Cas forgets how to breathe properly. "Hey, uh, I was wonderin' somethin'..." Dean laughs, looking a little embarrassed. Cas raises his eyebrows in interest. What the heck does  _he_ have to feel embarrassed about?! "Did you uh, did you dress up as an Angel 'cause I call you that all the time?"

Dean seems to be a little afraid of the answer. Castiel just blushes, as usual. "Um, yes."

Dean grins, looking down at nothing. "I like your costume." Dean smirks. "I like it a _lot_ actually... Sorry I couldn't get the wings off when you passed out by the way. Your waistcoat thing is all tangled in them and- I just thought it best to leave them." Dean laughs, reaching up to play with the feathers, amused. 

Cas blushes, looking away. "It's... fine. You didn't need to do that anyway. It's my own fault - I passed out on you." Cas wriggles his back, attempting to shift the wings from where they dig into his shoulders at various points.

Dean snickers and then winks at Castiel. "I wouldn't say it was entirely your fault, Cas. Some might say that something or someone wore you out." His eyes rove hungrily over Cas's costume again. Then he looks shocked. "Cas, are you... is that  _glitter_?!"

Cas shuts his eyes again, cursing his idiotic brother. He'd completely forgotten about the glitter. He sighs, opening his eyes to look at Dean's amused face. "Oh my God. Yeah. So embarrassing. At least I can safely say it wasn't my idea."

Dean's brow creases as he laughs - harder when he looks at his own chest. "Oh my God, look at me, I'm covered! Wait, wasn't your idea?"

Shit. 

"Um, yeah." Castiel says, because it's too late to deny it now. "Gabriel helped me with my costume. He thought up the eyeliner too. Jackass."

Dean frowns for a moment. "Huh." There's a pregnant pause, Castiel itches for it to end. "Y'know," continues Dean at last, but his voice has taken on a serious tone, "I really didn't like it when you were kissin' other people, Cas." Dean isn't looking at him anymore; he's staring at the wall behind Cas. "Was that Gabriel's idea too?" 

Cas swallows. "Um, he might have said... I could try, um, making you jealous."

Dean narrows his eyes at Cas for a long time. Castiel wonders if Dean will make him leave now, whether he's fucked things up beyond repair. 

"It damn sure worked." Dean says eventually, his voice slow, deliberate. Then he lets out a telltale smirk. "You're quite the little tease, aren't you?"

Castiel blushes, glad at least that Dean doesn't seem to be harbouring a great resentment still. Though he's not a tease, far from it. He's just trying to survive this rollercoaster of Dean's intense and often excruciating affection. If you could even call it that. Cas decides to just change the subject. 

"When did the party end?"

Dean shrugs. "Dunno. I passed out here not long after you did." He winks. "I'd also like to note that that's the second time running. I mean, jeez you didn't even wake up this time! You were just out." 

Castiel buries his face in the pillow. "Yes, we all can see I'm severely messed up. Let's not dwell, shall we?"

Dean grins at him, and coaxes him carefully round so that they are face to face again. "Aw, c'mon I'm just teasin'. You looked damn cute when you were asleep. Couldn't help myself, I just lay down next to you."

Castiel grimaces. "Yes, well. Thanks for removing the cuffs anyhow."

Dean laughs. "No problem. Though by the looks of things I should'a done that a bit earlier on." He frowns again, lifting one of Cas's hands out of the covers gingerly for inspection. Dean lifts the wrist and pulls it towards his mouth; Cas's brain short circuits. What the fuck. Dean presses his soft lips against the marred skin, so gentle, a feather touch. Cas's mouth actually falls open at the sight and sensation. "I'm sorry about that, Cas."

"Dean, really. It's ok." Castiel says softly, but allows Dean to press kisses against both of his wrists nonetheless. "So, uh... aren't you wondering what sort of a state your house has been left in?"

Castiel hates himself for asking the question, as it only reminds Dean that he needs to vacate the bed in the near future, but Cas has got to do something to preserve his sanity. It's one thing to be overwhelmed with thoughts of laying in bed next to a naked Dean, it's quite another to have said Dean whisper sweet nothings to you across a shared pillow, his arm wrapped around you, his lips caressing your skin. 

Castiel can't afford for his (already pretty hardcore) affection for the man before him to deepen. It would truly push him over the edge. After all, there's just no chance in Hell that Dean would ever feel the same way, not for him. It's best to nip it in the bud as early as possible with these things. 

Dean sighs, placing Cas's wrist down gently, but letting his fingers swirl very lightly over the marks left there. "God, I don't even wanna think about it. But yeah, I guess I should go see the damage."

"Wait, do you have to clear it up?" Cas asks as Dean stretches out, his arms reaching above his head, muscles straining in a way that Cas can't stop watching.

Dean smirks at him. "Nah, I'll get the Pledges to do it. Still, if there's any irreparable damages... that's on me." Castiel looks unsympathetic, just raising an eyebrow. "It's tough bein' King, Cas."

With that, Dean leans forward once more, presses a last kiss to Cas's temple, and then pushes the covers off of himself, scooting forwards to the end of the bed. Castiel keeps tight hold of the covers that cover his own naked body, simply because if even he himself saw it in comparison to Dean's at this moment in time, he might die of shame. 

Dean, in contrast, has no such hang ups about his own body. He stands up and stretches again, allowing Cas to stare for a solid few seconds at the long, deeply muscled line of his back, the tanned skin stretched over it beautifully, practically sparkling in this light. Though that might be the glitter, Cas reasons. 

Dean turns then, and Cas sucks in a breath at Dean's nakedness once more, unable to do anything but stare as he walks across the room, gathering items of clothing from where they've been flung. He winks at Cas a few times when he notices the staring, not seeming to care whatsoever. Cas realises he's getting hard again just at the sight, and he immediately feels exhausted from it, as though his body is complaining that it can't take much more of this. He looks away forcedly, thinking of other, boner-killing things - Gabriel's bare ass for one. He's seen that enough times. Gabriel always had a penchance for mooning. 

"You just gonna stay in bed all day, lazy?" Dean asks with a smile, breaking Cas out of his... extremely vivid and disturbing thoughts. He blushes at Dean's question. "I'll wait for you if you want."

God, why does Dean have to be s sweet the morning after? It helps nothing! It only serves to worsen Castiel's condition. The Dean condition. He shakes his head vehemently. 

 _Yes Dean_ , his mind pipes up without permission, _stay here- or in fact just come back to bed. You can take off those clothes again while you're at it - so unnecessary._ He sighs, wishing he could say this aloud without consequence. Instead, he grounds himself, thinking of a more reasonable response. 

"No, that's okay. I want to... use the bathroom and things. I'll find you before I leave." Castiel tells him, making sure his voice doesn't waver.

"Okay then." Dean answers after a bit, and he sounds a touch disappointed by this answer. 

"I mean," Castiel says, blushing suddenly as he realises what he said, "I'll find you if... if you want me to. If you'd rather I didn't-"

"Don't be stupid." Dean interrupts, smiling sweetly at him. He pulls on a hoodie - the same one he wore briefly last night to go and grab the lube, Cas notices - and crosses to the bed. "I'll be pissed if you don't say goodbye. I'm countin' on you, okay?" Cas nods, made nervous by his sudden proximity. Dean leans down and pecks him on the top of the head. "Alright, see you in a sec, angel. Be good."

Dean winks mischievously and heads to the door. Cas waves once, meekly, and then he's gone, the door shut firmly behind him. 

* * *

 

Castiel heads to the bathroom straight away after he's found (nearly) all of his clothes. Not that he came here with much. He prays no one bumps into him in the corridor, this barely-there costume looks even worse in the daylight, especially when there's a chill in the air. He somehow remembers which door it is from his drunken stumblings last night, and he darts inside, locking the door behind him with a sigh of relief. The first thing he notices is that the mummy is gone from the bathtub, though the goo is still in there, slightly congealed now. 

Maybe some drunkard took it home as a souvenir. Most likely, one of the Frat boys put it in someone's bed last night. 

Castiel steps forwards, limping a little for reasons he can't remember, and then he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror directly ahead. Mother of Christ, he thinks, mouth falling open a little way. Peppering his chest, his neck and his shoulders are splotches of crimson colour, each mark seeming larger and more prominent than the last as Cas's eyes roam over himself. He presses his fingers against the bruises one by one, remembering Dean's lips and teeth in each spot as he does so, sucking the marks into his skin, branding him, possessing him. 

Castiel shudders. 

Yes, well that's all fine and good, he realises after a minute - don't get him wrong, he's finding it unbearably sexy to see the evidence of Dean's claim all over his torso, but he's practically  _shirtless_ right now! His wings are still on, granted - looking a little bent and featherless by this point - but aside from those and the waistcoat, his chest is open to the world! 

He groans a little. Dear God, he realises, he's going to have to walk back to his room like this. A thought suddenly occurs to him and he unbuttons his pants swiftly, pushing them down his legs to his knees. He stares at his thighs in the mirror - just as he suspected, they have been given the same treatment. The bruises are larger here though, particularly in certain areas - namely his hipbones when he pulls his underwear down a little to see, and his inner thighs. 

Cas can't help but smile a little at himself. It appears the plan worked in some small way after all. 

* * *

 

The smile has promptly faded by the time Castiel has scrubbed his eyes clean of kohl, washed as much of the glitter off as possible - a practically futile endeavour, he only succeeded in getting someone's flannel extremely fabulous - discarded the wings in the wastepaper basket (which is mostly, to Cas's disgust, filled with used condoms) and made himself reasonably presentable. He heads down the stairs as though he's descending into a fiery torment - very slowly and quietly, his eyes wide and alert for what lies below. 

He reaches the middle of the staircase and is immediately noticed. 

"Cassy!" It's unmistakably his brother's voice, emanating from the room to his right, the room with the punch bowl. And the tequila pouring, Cas thinks, grimacing at the memory. "Nice of you to join us!"

Castiel sighs and pads down the rest of the stairs, turning to head into the room Gabriel is calling from. He freezes, practically still in the doorway, when he realises the sight before him. Apart from anything else, the place is  _trashed._ Cobwebs hang limply from every visible object still, some dripping with beer and other liquids Cas would rather not identify. The neon paint still smears the walls, but it is joined now by other, far worse stains - the most notable being vomit. The floor squelches under Cas's feet, and he's glad he found his shoes in Dean's room, even if the same couldn't be said for his socks. 

Practically all the furniture is tipped over, the punch bowl smashed into splinters under the table it had rested upon. Pumpkins are scattered about the place too, Cas realises they must have been there last night, though he didn't notice. Every one is smashed now, the pulpy remains wafting an autumnal smell into the air. Mixed with the beer though, it is not appealing. 

"So, how was your night then, brosef?" Gabriel asks, and Cas finally turns to look at him. He's sat on a sofa, shirt wide open, still moustached, and astonishingly there are two girls draped over him, both unconscious still, both only partially dressed. Gabriel looks as though he's found heaven. He winks at Cas. "Was it... fruitful?"  Cas furrows his brow at Gabriel, and then shuts his eyes slowly, remembering how covered in love bites he is right now. And sure enough, Gabriel's eyes are roving over him, drinking each one in with an expression of glee. "Saw Dean-o a minute ago." Gabriel continues conversationally. "He's looking... sparkly... this morning."

Castiel coughs, giving Gabriel his warning stare. 

"Gabe," he hisses, trying to convey his seriousness, "if you say  _one word_ to Dean about anything even remotely-"

"And after you're done with the kitchen you can start in here, scumbags!" Dean enters the room, yelling behind him, presumably at the Pledges. "Any complaints and your only cleaning tool is your own toothbrush- oh, Cas, you're up."

Cas can't help but smile a little as Dean notices him. His face actually lit up. He seems genuinely happy that Cas is here still. Gabriel is on the brink of laughter, Cas can tell. He wishes he were close enough to kick his brother. 

"Morning, Dean." 

Dean grins wider, and crosses the room towards him. "Mornin'." In his hands he grasps two tumblers of water, both of which are fizzing slightly. "Got you some dissolvable aspirin."

Cas is touched. He does have a killer headache. "Oh. Thank you."

Dean hands him the glass, taking a sip of his own and just gazing at him. "Y'welcome."

Gabriel coughs loudly enough that one of the girls on his shoulder stirs slightly. Gabriel pets her hair and she drifts back to sleep. "Y'know what's funny?" Gabriel asks, and Castiel dreads the answer. "It seemed like you guys _both_ disappeared last night! I swear Cassy, I just turned round and you were  _vamoose!_ Isn't that strange?"

Castiel glares at his brother. "No." He replies through gritted teeth. "Not particularly."

"And Dean-o!" Gabriel continues as if Cas hadn't spoken. "Get lucky last night did'ya? I heard some  _extremely_ loud noises coming from your room last night."

Castiel glances at Dean, finding him smiling slightly at Gabriel, his eyes narrowed. "Mmm. I sure did." Dean replies, and he takes a step closer to Gabe, sipping his drink again. "And they were so good, Gabe. Knew all the right spots. That mouth man... gonna be dreamin' about that little minx for  _weeks._ "

Gabriel narrows his eyes at Dean, glaring. Castiel covers his surprised laughter with a cough. Did Dean just win a mind-game against Gabriel?!

"Gross." Gabriel mutters eventually, frowning. He turns his attention to Cas instead. "Did Balthazar give you those hickeys, Cassy? I hear you and him got pretty up close and personal last night-"

"HEY." Dean shuts, his voice sharp, deep. "Shut the hell up, Trickster. You're in enough trouble as it is."

Castiel turns to Dean, cocking his head. "Trouble?"

Dean's face relaxes as soon as he looks at Cas. "Yeah. Your smartass brother here thought it'd be a great idea to play a game of 'while the cat's away' after we... I mean,  _I_ went to bed last night."

Gabriel rolls his eyes; Cas can see it in his peripheral vision. "Alright, let's stop with the pretending, you morons - I know you two were upstairs doing the no-pants-dance all night."

"Quiet." Dean snaps at Gabriel, before turning back to Cas. "He pulled a prank."

Castiel's face drains of colour. "Oh God." He turns to his brother, accusatory. "What did you do?!"

Gabriel feigns a look of innocence, open mouthed, shocked to the core. "Moi?!"

"Cram it Gabriel, I know it was you." Dean snaps, and he sounds pretty pissed actually. Cas widens his eyes; what the Hell could Gabriel have done? "I should be makin' you clear up all this shit instead o'the Pledges." 

Wait, Cas thinks, stomach plummeting - Gabriel is the reason why the house is trashed? What the Hell did he  _do?!_

"Why Alpha, your glittery highness, I'm sure have no  _clue_ what you're talking about." Gabriel replies, and there's a gleam in his eye that shows he is lying. 

"Oh, really?" Dean asks, smirking a little now, and he steps closer to Gabriel, sipping his drink with feigned nonchalance. Castiel has seen the look in Dean's eyes many times before - he is preparing to take down his prey, circling his victim like a winged predator, ready to pounce. "So when all of the lights suddenly went out during the party last night, and the music stopped, I suppose it was just a  _coincidence_ that you were apparently nowhere to be seen?" 

Gabriel shrugs. "Guy's gotta have a bathroom break now and again." 

Dean takes a step closer, leaning forwards over Gabriel, careful not to disturb the sleeping girls. "I see. And then later, when a guy with a bloodied mask ran through the house brandishing a fuckin'  _chainsaw -_ you had nothin' to do with that either?"

Gabriel feigns a look of shock. "Dearie  _me!_ What a scary thing to occur! And on Halloween night too!" Gabriel tuts, shaking his head. Castiel kind of wants to murder him. For fuck's sake - the pranking has gone too far. If he's messing with Dean, he's jeopardising Dean and Cas's... thing. Cas is unfortunately  _related_ to this sarcastic, obnoxious 'Trickster'. If Gabriel pisses Dean off too much, he might not want to see Cas anymore. That's just something that can't happen. He glares at Gabriel, hard. "What ever did the innocent party-goers do?"

Dean tenses his jaw - Cas can see it from where he stands. "What do you think, you prick?! They freaked! They went fuckin' bezerk, thought they were gonna be sliced and diced Texas Massacre style!" Dean stands up again, growling as he spins on his heel, kicking a fallen over chair nearby in his fury. "Everyone ran for the exits but -" Dean laughs falsely, turning to glare at Gabriel. It's much more menacing than when Cas does it that's for sure, though Gabriel doesn't seem particularly scared. "-  _someone_ had hilariously locked every goddamned door and window! So they trashed the place." 

Gabriel whistles, shaking his head. "Wow-ie. That's a Hell of a party there. One they'll remember anyhow." Gabriel grins, winks, and Dean loses it. He shoves his drink at Cas, who takes it, surprised, and stalks over to Gabriel, grabs him by the collar of his shirt and yanks him forwards. The girls awaken abruptly, leaning away with a terrified squeak when they see what's happening. 

As Castiel watches his sex-partner and his brother have a close-quarters staring match, neither backing down, he can't help but imagine himself in Gabriel's place. His dick actually twitches a little at the idea, and he realises that if he were to trade places with his brother right now, it would be an entirely different scenario. 

"Listen," Dean hisses, quietly, so that Cas has to strain to hear him, "you wanna play your little tricks and be a bit of a badass, that's cool. Leave your buckets of goo on top o'doors, hide your whoopee cushions - hey, go nuts with that crap. But this shit?" Dean jabs a finger at the mess behind him. "Not. Okay. You trash this house again, you're gonna be fuckin' sorry. This is our house, 'brother', you treat it with some goddamned respect."

Gabriel doesn't change his expression, just staying neutral. Around half a minute passes - Dean doesn't let go, and Gabriel says nothing in reply. Cas assumes he'll just stay silent. He never owns up to his crimes. He's only ever a prime suspect, never a convicted criminal. But then, his brother moves. Very slightly, just leaning forwards, and Cas realises he's bringing his mouth up to Dean's ear. 

Cas's eyes widen. Gabriel is whispering something to Dean, and Castiel can't hear a word. The worst possibilities race through his brain. Could Gabriel be telling Dean of that time Cas was suspended (by Gabriel himself) from a basketball hoop by the waistband of his underwear?! Or is he whispering that Cas is a firm believer in alien abduction, and that he goes around preaching to the world that he was once an abductee, that he was probed time and again by small green men and even forced to slow dance with one? This last one is completely untrue of course, but that's not to say Gabriel hasn't spread this rumour before. 

He fidgets nervously, waiting for Gabriel to finish his furtive whisper. Eventually, he leans away, and Dean's fingers loosen their grasp on his collar. He stares at Gabriel for a long time, his face near unreadable. Without a word, he steps away, glancing at Cas once, and then retreating from the room. 

Castiel rounds on his brother the moment he's gone. The girls scarper as soon as Dean is out of the way. "What did you do?!"

"Aw, girls... don't- aw man. You scared 'em off!" Gabriel complains, looking after their retreating backs. "I was gonna make you breakfast, honest!"

Castiel steps forwards and dunks the remains of his drink and Dean's over Gabriel's head. "You asshole! What have you done?!"

Gabriel splutters and coughs, glaring at Castiel. "What the Hell was that for?! It's just a prank, Cassy will you calm down?!"

Castiel growls at him, picking up one of the sofa cushions and smacking him round the head with it. "No! What did you say to him?! Why is Dean upset now?"

"Oh, grow up Cassy," Gabriel says harshly, putting his hands up to defend himself, "he's a big boy, he can deal with it."

"Gabriel!" Castiel cries, and it comes out as a bit of a whine. He sinks into the place beside his brother on the couch, defeated. "Gabe, why do you have to  _ruin_ everything?"

Gabriel turns to his brother, his irritated expression melting into one of concern. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

Castiel doesn't speak for a moment, doesn't even look at Gabriel. He sighs after a moment, shrugging slightly. "I don't know. When we were little, when we were growing up... you just... you seem to have it out for me or something."

Gabriel scoffs. "That's ridiculous."

Cas turns to look at him, his expression hard. "No it's not! It's my  _life,_  Gabriel. I'm not... I'm not a kid still in the closet that you can out to everyone. You can't fuck around with my life anymore."  When Gabriel just looks incredulous, Castiel rolls his eyes. "The 'plan' you came up with for the party last night? I mean, I asked you for _help_ and that's what you do? Yeah, I know I'm new to all this stuff and that it must be kinda fun sometimes to fuck me around, but  _Christ_ Gabriel, I  _humiliated_ myself. I almost pushed Dean away with the shit I pulled. He could've never wanted to talk to me again!" 

"Cassy, I didn't-"

"No, Gabriel. Please." Castiel interrupts him, and he stands up, turning back once. "Just... leave it alone, okay? I don't need your help anymore."

Castiel turns from him before he can reply. He walks out of the room in the direction Dean left, and doesn't notice as Gabriel watches him go. 

* * *

 

It takes Cas a few minutes to find Dean, partly because his memories of the layout of this house are only reachable through a drunken haze, and partly because each room is such a total tip that he has to spend a while navigating it carefully to ensure he doesn't get speared by broken glass or trip over a piece of debris. 

Eventually he finds Dean though, in the kitchen, his expression hard as he watches his Pledges scrubbing furiously at the linoleum, still in their costumes, Cas notes. He stands in the doorway for a moment, not wanting to interrupt - maybe Dean wouldn't like it if Cas drew attention to himself by calling Dean over. Hell, last time these kids saw him he was apparently on the same rank as they are. A lowly Pledge. 

Eventually, after a minute of fidgeting and dithering, Dean looks up and notices him. He doesn't smile, but his face softens. 

"Alright you knuckleheads, keep at it, y'hear? I'll be back soon." Dean barks, and some of them nod. 

Cas steps out of the kitchen and into a hallway of sorts, and in no time at all Dean joins him there. "I, um," Cas begins, eloquent as ever, "I was just about to leave... Did you need any help with anything? I can stay and help clear up if you like-"

Dean bats his politeness out of the air with one hand and a scoff. "Don't be stupid. That's why we have the Pledges, so they can do shit like this. And if your brother thinks he's getting away with not doin' anythin' he's sorely mistaken." Dean smiles wryly, his brow furrowing when Cas doesn't smile back. "Hey, you okay?"

Castiel sighs; to be honest, he's not feeling great. His hangover is slowly making itself more and more known, the nausea and aches welling up in various places. It's not helped by the fact that he hates conflict, hates arguing, but Gabriel has had this one coming for a long time. At least he's still got Dean. 

"Yeah. I dunno, just... Gabriel. He pisses me off sometimes." Castiel shakes his head, looking into the distance. "I'm sorry about what he did. Y'know, the prank. Trashing the house."

"Aw, don't sweat it. He's done worse." Cas's eyes widen for a moment. _Worse?_ "And hey, I get it, man." Dean says sympathetically, and he hooks his arm round Cas's shoulder, squeezing a little. "I got a brother too. Younger, mind. But by God do we have bitch-fights sometimes. Often." Dean pauses, looking away. Cas thinks he sees his jaw tighten. "Nothin' like family to piss you off good and proper."

Cas shrugs, and Dean's arm jostles around his shoulders as he does it. "It sucks. And you're stuck with them." 

Dean grimaces, nodding, and Cas knows somehow that he really does understand this. "Don't remind me. Not gonna lie to you, Cas..." Dean says, scratching his head absently. "With Gabriel... you got a piece o'work, you have. But uh, don't... don't be too hard on the guy. He's a royal dick but he loves you. A lot." 

Castiel rolls his eyes. "He's got a weird way of showing it." He looks at Dean, smiling a little now. How does that work? How does a two minute conversation with Dean make it seem like everything's okay? "I guess I'd better be going." Cas grimaces, looking towards the direction of the exit. " _Not_ looking forward to walking across campus in this outfit I must say. Especially with my new... adornments." 

Cas raises his eyebrows at Dean, tapping one of the larger bruises just below his collarbone to indicate what he means. Dean gives him a cheeky grin in response. "Hey, you're welcome. Now no one'll come sniffin' round after you anymore." Dean's arm starts to shift then, sliding off of his shoulders and moving down his back until he's gripping Cas's waist. Without warning, Cas is yanked forwards, pressed against Dean, staring up into his eyes. He stops breathing and Dean's voice drops to a growl. "Now if you see some Balthazar-style, good-lookin' poser, they'll take one look at you and know for damn sure that you  _belong_ to someone else." Castiel can't help it, having the use of his hands now is too much to resist. He fists a hand in Dean's hoodie, holding on for dear life. "To me."

Castiel nods in agreement, unable to speak. He whimpers as Dean's hand travels downwards, brushes over his ass, squeezes tightly. 

"You gonna text me later, gorgeous?" Dean asks quietly, his lips so tantalisingly close.

Castiel breathes out a reply: "Yes."

"Good." Dean releases him, and Cas sways on his feet, blinking. It's so unfair of Dean to taunt him like that. But he would never have it stop. "Lookin' forward to it." Dean says, winking, and Cas just smiles, embarrassed, before turning to go. He makes it to the end of the hall and then Dean calls him back. "Cas, hold on a sec." He says, glancing behind him to check his Pledges haven't trickled out of the kitchen to observe; he jogs over to Cas, and immediately starts undressing. 

Cas stares, mouth falling open as Dean unzips his hoodie to reveal nothing underneath, just Dean's beautiful bare chest. And that tattoo. Castiel wets his lips, staring helplessly. He registers vaguely that Dean is laughing at his reaction. And then Dean shoves the hoodie at him, holding it out at arms length, a bashful smile on his face. 

Cas blinks at it, uncomprehending. 

"Take it," Dean insists, shaking the garment at him, "I uh, I'm just messin' about the hickey stuff. I don't want you to catch cold." 

Castiel can't help the broad smile that breaks out on his face. Dean is offering his hoodie? That's beyond adorable, it's the kind of stuff you read about in cheesy romances. Dean rolls his eyes. 

"C'mon, will you just take the damn thing? I'm startin' to feel like an idiot." 

Castiel accepts the hoodie carefully, slipping it on slowly, making sure he cherishes each second. It's warm from Dean's body, the scent of the other boy all over it, stitched into every seam. He sniffs one of the cuffs, still smiling. 

"Creep." Dean says fondly, and then there's a clattering sound from the kitchen. Dean's head whips round. "Goddamn it. Those idiots can't do anything. I gotta deal with this, you okay?" 

Cas nods, his happiness practically pouring out of him, he can tell. Dean grins in reply, shaking his head a little. He waves, and jogs back towards the kitchen, yelling something about someone needing a hiding. Whatever that means. 

Cas turns to go, wrapping his arms around himself and imagining they're Dean's. He feels a bit awkward now about having stolen a different one of Dean's hoodies already now that Dean himself has voluntarily handed one over... but it couldn't be helped. He just seems to find himself... less than clothed when he's emerging from Dean's room. Hey, maybe he'll start up a Dean's hoodie collection! That'd be fantastic. 

Okay, it would be a little bit creepy, Cas reasons with himself as he pulls open the front door. But how many hoodies can Dean own anyway? He ambles down 'Fraternity Row' feeling a little lighter now despite his hangover and argument with Gabriel. Plus, he's got a guaranteed text conversation with Dean later. Yeah, today is definitely a good day. 

* * *

 

 **Castiel Novak**  
Hello, Dean.

It's nine twenty-three in the evening, and Castiel has waited as long as he can. Dean did specify that he wanted Cas to text first after all. It's not weird. It's  _not,_ he tells himself. People text all the time. Apparently. He chews his nails.

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
So formal this evening.

Yes, Castiel has finally managed to add Dean's name to his 'contacts'. The exclamation mark is there to remind him who this is at the other end of the phone (!).

 **Castiel Novak**  
My apologies. How should   
I begin the texts in future?

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
I quite like 'hey sexy'. Or   
even just the classic 'I'm not  
wearing any pants'

 **Castiel Novak**  
What if I am wearing pants?

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
Well now you're just being  
ridiculous

 **Castiel Novak**  
How so?

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
If you're talking to me, you're  
not gonna be wearing pants,   
Cas ;)

Castiel splutters a little, taking a sip of tea and shaking his head ruefully. He's on his bed, in his pyjamas, and he's made himself tea - even has a couple of biscuits beside him - the perfect set up for a text conversation with Dean. 

 **Castiel Novak**  
Well, will you be wearing pants?

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
That depends.

 **Castiel Novak**  
On?

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
How good you are.

Castiel's heart does a nervous little flutter, and he feels himself heat up slightly. He's in so deep with this asshole, he's never getting out, he thinks. Dean isn't even here and he's reducing Cas to a trembling mess with a few typed innuendos. Strangely, Cas doesn't seem to mind this time. It could be worse, he thinks. Dean could have gotten sick of him after their first meeting. But he's still here, isn't he? He must find  _something_ about Cas worthy of sticking around for... right?

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
Though I suppose you could  
argue that I wasn't wearing  
pants last night... And you   
were very, very bad last   
night, Cas. 

 **Castiel Novak**  
I accepted my punishment,  
did I not?

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
And then some.

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
Man...

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
You sure were a good sport   
about gettin' punished, huh?

Castiel raises his eyebrows at his phone, smirking. He can't get a word in edgeways; Dean's texts are coming thick and fast, one after another.

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
You took it like a champ.

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
Almost seemed like you   
enjoyed it a little ;)

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
Sorry, I'm getting some serious  
flashbacks 

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
Thinking of you like that, Cas...  
all tied up.. begging for it...

Castiel blushes, placing his tea down on the side before he spills it all over himself. Fuck, Dean's words. This boy is going to kill him, he's sure. 

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
And when I fucked you for the   
first time... shit. So damn hot,   
Cas. You shouldn't be legal.

Castiel waits, wondering if Dean will continue. His face has reddened now, he barely knows what to say. 

 **Castiel Novak**  
Dean... 

Cas's fingers hover over the keyboard. What to say?

 **Castiel Novak**  
It was pretty incredible. 

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
PRETTY incredible??? Oh I see.  
Only PRETTY incredible, huh?

Castiel laughs at his screen. Dean is joking, he knows, but he's happy to play along. 

 **Castiel Novak**  
Yes. It certainly was. 

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
Well. 

Cas waits for a minute, biting his lip in anticipation of the next text. 

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
We'll just have to do better next time, won't we?

Castiel groans lightly - he's almost certain this is entirely impossible. Last night was... perfection. He can barely think about it for too long, it's overwhelming - it makes him feel feverish to remember the look in Dean's eyes, to remember the sensations thrumming through him, the blinding pleasure that swept over him with such force he was rendered unconscious. 

Cas realises with a start that he's palming himself softly through his pyjama bottoms. He stops himself, determined to get a hold of his runaway mind. 

 **Castiel Novak  
** Impossible.

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
I like a challenge. By the way, speaking of  
last night I forgot to ask... Are you okay?  
How do you feel today?

The words stare up at Castiel from the screen and he blinks at them. Dean must be referring to the loss of his virginity. He's got to be. Though in Cas's mind, to be honest, Dean took that from him the first day they met. Last night was just the furthest they've ever gone together. And it was incredible. 

But... is Dean asking him how he feels emotionally about what happened? Or... physically? Castiel chews a fingernail, wondering how to answer. 

 **Castiel Novak**  
I feel... fine. 

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
Fine? Are you... in pain?

Ah, Cas thinks. So he did mean physically. That's a little awkward to be discussing over text... but still, it's sweet of Dean to ask. 

 **Castiel Novak**  
A little. But I don't mind at all. My wrists   
are kind of sore and so are... other places  
but, you know, I wouldn't have had it...  
any other way. 

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
Any other way?

Castiel shifts uncomfortably. This conversation is straying into places he doesn't want it to. He might as well just say it, it doesn't really harm anything. As long as Dean doesn't read into it too much. 

 **Castiel Novak**  
What I mean is... I'm glad it was you. And   
that it happened like it did. I don't have any  
regrets. 

There's a long pause before Cas, going mad with worry, receives another text from Dean. 

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
:) 

Castiel huffs a laugh. Not the response he was hoping for maybe, but that one will never come. So he should give up that pipe dream while he still can. If he still can. 

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
I'm glad. I was worried you might have   
thought I... took advantage. I don't want  
you to think that, Cas. I made sure it's   
what you wanted. 

 **Castiel Novak**  
I know. Thank you. 

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
I wanted it too, obviously. But I'm   
guessing I didn't need to tell you that ;)

Cas smiles, remembering the need in Dean's expression as he'd begged Dean to fuck him, to be the one to do it first. Yeah, Cas can die happily knowing that Dean wanted him so much it actually interrupted his 'punishment', got him so riled up that he couldn't talk at times, almost drove him crazy. 

 **Castiel Novak**  
You don't say? ;)

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
Can I call you? I just kinda wanna talk  
instead of texting. I'm tired and so are  
my thumbs.

Castiel sits up straighter, gulping. He takes some deep breaths and types back 'yes :)'. Dean rings him seconds after, his phone buzzing to life. He's been toying around with his phone in the day, and he's managed to set that picture of Dean, the one of him smiling at the camera in his boxers, as the display when Dean rings him. Of course, he's forgotten that he did that, and when he sees the picture he nearly drops the phone. Finally, after some fumbling, he manages to answer. 

"Hi." Castiel says, determined to sound less 'formal' than he had over text. 

"Hey." Dean drawls back at him; his voice sounds rough and sexy, like he's inches away from a nap. 

"What are you-" Cas starts to say. 

"So, you had a good time last night? You liked it?"

Cas pauses. "Um, yes. Which part, exactly?"

Dean huffs a laugh, and Cas can practically feel the exhale against his ear. He closes his eyes. "What about the part where I was fucking you?" 

Castle's eyes snap open. Wow, that was not where he was expecting this conversation to go. "Uh... y-yes I-"

"Remember it, Cas? Started off kinda slow, huh? I had to pin you down cause you were so eager, d'you remember that?" Dean's voice is a slow, deliberate tease of low, sultry tones. Cas is gone already, so turned on, he's not even registering the world around him anymore. "Then you begged me, Cas. Begged me to go harder, deeper, and I did."

"Yeah..." Cas whispers, remembering it vividly, heart racing. He remembers Dean slamming into him, holding his hips, Cas's legs wrapped around his waist... How could he ever forget something like that? "Yes, I remember."

Dean chuckles. "Well if we're gonna do better than that, Cas, I gotta ask you to do somethin' for me, alright?" 

Suddenly Castiel is so completely on board with whatever Dean has in mind. "Anything."

"You remember the present I sent you? The purple one?" 

Cas can hear Dean's grin through the phone. His eyes travel to the wardrobe where he hid the plug and bottle of lube the other day. "Yes."

"Good. Now, next time you see me, Cas- I want you to be wearin' it. You got that?" 

Castiel is silent, shocked. He has to be  _already_ wearing it? "W-when will that be?"

"Not sure." Dean replies, filled with nonchalance. 

Castiel stares incredulously at nothing, blushing furiously. "But... then how will I know when to wear it?" 

Dean laughs a little. "I guess you'll just have to work it out, huh? Maybe you should wear it  _all_  the time, just to be safe." 

Castiel splutters; there is  _no way_ he is doing that. How uncomfortable would that even be? He tries to reason with this lunatic. "Or you could just set a time for us to meet up..."

"Less fun that way." Dean replies, and he's grinning again, Cas can tell. 

Castiel closes his eyes. This kind of thing is why Dean Winchester is a terrible, awful idea. Because he's going to do as Dean asks, obviously he will. He's powerless to refuse against this boy. If this is what Dean wants, no matter how high the humiliation stakes... Cas is going to obey in some way or another. 

"Okay." He answers eventually, defeated. 

"Aw, c'mon gorgeous, don't sound so blue." Dean coos at him. "Hey, I bet it'd help if you thought about  _why_ I want you to wear it so damn bad." 

"Because you're secretly a sadist?" Cas queries, jokingly. Dean laughs at him. 

"Cas, sweetheart..." Dean says, and he seems to break off for a moment, choosing the right wording. "It's for ease of access. Remember how long I took with you last time? How you were practically at the finish line before we'd started the real race?"

Cas frowns a little at Dean's terrible metaphor. 

"This time won't be like that," Dean continues, "this time, soon as I see you, I can pull you someplace quiet, back you up against a wall and just slide straight in. Would you like that, Cas? Does that sound like fun?"

Cas shudders, picturing it. He might see Dean in a crowded hallway - he'd be with his jock buddies, maybe in that delicious Football uniform. Cas would catch his eye and Dean would wink very subtly, invisible to his friends. Then he'd make an excuse, follow Cas down a secluded corridor, into an empty classroom perhaps... He'd grab Cas roughly, make him drop his bag, his books- whatever. He'd back them against a far wall, kiss and bite at his neck, pull down both of their pants with a sharp movement. Dean would reach behind Castiel, find the plug, and pull it out easily... And then...

"Yes. Yes, okay." Castiel says hurriedly, realising that this fantasy, one that has him hard and wanting already, is actually a possibility. "I'll do it."

Dean chuckles darkly. "Good. So... I guess I'll be seeing you soon, Cas."

Castiel moans very slightly. "Yes. Please." 

"Alright then. Night, Cas. Sleep tight."

"Goodnight, Dean." 

Cas takes the phone from his ear, ready to press 'End Call' and go hunting in the back of his wardrobe. Suddenly, there's a voice from the other end of the line; Dean hasn't hung up yet. 

"Cas?" 

"Yes, Dean?" 

"While I have you... Just wanted to say that, uh... hope you can be strict, cause I'm one naughty student."

Cas's brow furrows for a second, and then it dawns on him. His mouth falls open. That's right - he's Dean's  _tutor._ Crowley must have told him already.

"See you Tuesday, Mr Novak." 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So. Tutoring goes... well?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, 
> 
> Firstly thank you for your delicious comments - they really keep me going at times :') I'm so glad you're enjoying the story, I am updating weekly without fail as you can see, though there is no set day for an update so sorry about that haha. 
> 
> I just wanted to let you guys know that I know where this is going to end now! I have a plan, I'm going to stick to it as best I can - if all goes well, this fic will be 15 chapters long. I know! Close to the end. However, I don't think I'll be ready to let these versions of Cas and Dean go if you catch my drift... so we'll see what happens after. 
> 
> Love you all immensely, thank you for taking the time to read this and I hope you're all having a wonderful day. 
> 
> xxx

On the morning of Tuesday 3rd November, Castiel manages to pack his bag seven separate times before being more or less satisfied with what he's got in there. On Tuesdays, he starts off the day with a Religious Studies seminar at 9am. Then he'll have his infamous crazy-long gap wherein he usually finds himself drowning his boredom in mediocre, usually burnt coffee before heading over (usually excited as Hell) to witness the most glorious moment of his week (the parade of the Psi Delta Alpha boys) before his own lesson. 

This week however, he won't get to see the Frat boys. Well, maybe a glimpse, but at the very least he won't be  _waiting_ for them in his usual spot. No, today holds something different, Castiel thinks, heart drumming against his ribcage as he walks across campus, teeth chattering against the cold. Today Castiel has something to fill his gap - no pun intended. 

Today he will be alone, in a classroom with Dean. 

For one whole, exquisite hour. 

And the best part is, it's a Professor-ordered activity. Castiel hasn't spoken to Dean since the phone conversation on Sunday night, and his thoughts race frantically, wondering what Dean thought when he found out about the tutoring, what he's thinking now. 

Castiel vaguely entertains the notion that Dean won't even turn up - after all, he hasn't been coming to his lessons with Crowley that often. But Castiel knows better than that, deep down. He heard the promise in Dean's voice just before he hung up the phone, the anticipation in every syllable. 

_See you Tuesday, Mr Novak._

Castiel shivers, and it's not from the biting cold. He took time with his appearance today, donning his favourite mustard sweater over his tightest black jeans. Of course, noting the weather outside, he's had to add a few extra layers - a bulky coat (his trench coat would be near useless in this weather), a dark green woollen scarf that his grandmother knitted him, and a pair of matching gloves. 

He walks past the graveyard on his way to the Sciences Building, checking his watch. 

12:56pm. So he's technically not late, at least not yet. He speeds up a little nonetheless, not wanting to eat into a moment of his time with Dean, even though Castiel suspects he'll probably be late. That's just the kind of guy Dean is. 

When he finally reaches the hallway he knows so well, he finds it empty and curses, realising that Crowley and the other seniors must already be inside. Sure enough, as Castiel edges closer, he can hear the typical ruckus from inside, Crowley's voice bellowing over it every so often. 

He takes a deep breath, and knocks on the door. 

For some reason this moment feels like a whole new chapter in Castiel's life. He's about to breach the barrier, as it were. Every week he waits patiently outside of this door, never able to step through, only an observer. Now, he's about to enter the classroom that is filled with every object of fantasy Castiel has been preoccupied with in his college life. 

The only difference is that now Castiel doesn't care about the other Psi Delta Alpha boys. In fact, when he opens the door and they all peer round at him, he barely gives their various - and still beautiful - faces a second glance. He directs his gaze at Crowley instead, his only goal being how to get to Dean, sooner rather than later.

"Ah, Castiel." Crowley huffs, and he sounds a little relieved. The class has quieted to a low rumble of voices. There are sniggers too, and Castiel knows that every single one of the boys in here is talking about him, but he hardly cares. "I've been expecting you. Come in."

Castiel does, quietly, and presses the door closed behind him. He keeps his eyes fixed on Crowley, not letting himself scan the class for Dean. 

"Oi, feathers! Have a good night Saturday?" Someone calls to him, and his cheeks burn. 

Crowley side eyes him a little, but makes no comment. 

Castiel has lost the game though, he can't help himself. He has to find Dean amongst these gorgeous specimens, see his face, study his reaction. He has to  _know._ What is Dean thinking? His eyes rove over the faces of the Frat boys, searching wildly. It takes less than a minute for his brain to come to the conclusion: Dean is not in this classroom. He tries to hide the devastation in his expression as his heart plummets. 

What does this mean? Is he going to have to take another Psi Delta Alpha? Tutor someone that isn't Dean? God, he can't think of anything worse. 

"Alright, imbeciles," Crowley shouts suddenly, breaking Castiel out of his downward spiral, "stay put, alright? I'll be back in a minute." 

Wait, what? Castiel stares at Crowley, confused. The class breaks into a cheer at Crowley's leaving. Sure enough, the Professor meanders over to the door, pulling it open and sighing wearily. After a moment or two, Castiel standing there open-mouthed, wondering if Crowley's plan had all along been to leave him in here with these vicious seniors and listen to the screams from outside as they tore him to shreds. 

Crowley looks back at Castiel, impatient. "Well, come on you blasted idiot," he says incredulously, gesturing for Cas to go through the open door, "we haven't got all day. I'll show you where I've stored the dunce."

Castle's heart lifts from the chasms of despair, quieting the irritation that forms around the fact Crowley just referred to Dean as a dunce - Dean. Crowley's taking him to Dean!

* * *

 Crowley walks down the hall a fair way, sighing to himself as they pass various classrooms. "So, are you gonna be alright with him?" 

Castiel nods, sure he can't form words right now. His adrenaline levels are running high, he can tell. "Mmhmm." 

Crowley side eyes him again. "I've been thinking about this, Castiel..." Crowley says drawing to a halt outside a closed door. Castiel stares at it in wonder - is Dean behind it?! "I don't want you to feel I've put too much pressure on you. I mean, I'm essentially unloading one of my more troublesome students onto you." Castiel nods distractedly, barely listening. "Basically," Crowley sighs, "I'm giving you a chance to back out. If you really don't want to... you don't have to go in there. I can just bring Dean back to class-"

"No!" Castiel cries, catching the end of what Crowley is saying and feeling fear surge up inside him. He won't allow having this wonderful thing dangled in front of him and then have it ripped away before he even gets to experience it. "No, honestly, I-I'm looking forward to it. To the experience, I mean." 

Crowley raises his eyebrows at Castiel. "The experience?"

"Yes," Castiel confirms, nodding, "I have thought about um, teaching as a profession before. This kind of experience is really beneficial. Thank you, Professor."

Crowley frowns for a few moments, and Castiel pleads with him silently. Accept this bullshit explanation! Please! Then he shrugs. "Alright," Crowley says, "if you're sure. I'll come and check on you at about half past-"

"That won't be necessary." Castiel says quickly. A little too quickly perhaps. "I have a specific method of tutoring, you know? To interrupt us halfway through could be devastating to the... um, process." 

Crowley furrows his brow, turning to head back the way they came. "Uh huh. Well, you know where I am."

Castiel plasters on a smile, nodding. "Absolutely. See you after class, Professor." 

Castiel watches, body on vibrate, until he sees his Professor duck back into the classroom, out of sight. Then he takes a deep breath. He removes his gloves, stuffing them in his coat pocket. He runs a hand shakily through his hair, forcing the air out of his lungs. 

This is it, he thinks, hand on the door knob. He bites his lip, and pushes inside. 

The classroom is barely different to the one Crowley teaches in. The same wooden lab benches, the same rickety stools, the same desk in place where Crowley's is. The only difference is the occupant. 

Sitting in the back row, on the aisle side of the bench, his posture slouched and uncaring, a smile twisting his forbidden lips, is Dean. He eyes Cas from afar, a twinkle in his emerald gaze. He's wearing his Letterman jacket again, Cas can't help but notice. He looks incredible, as ever, and Cas keeps his eyes trained on the older boy as he closes the door behind him.

"Hey." Dean says, and the word fills the room, bouncing off everything in it. 

Castiel swallows. "Hi." 

"Nice scarf." Dean comments, grinning.

Castiel immediately becomes self-conscious, his hands reaching up to tug the garment off. "Thank you." He shrugs his coat off too, feeling Dean's stare and shivering with it. "Sorry I'm late, I-I thought you'd be... um," Castiel puts his coat on one of the desks at the front. He and Dean are still across the classroom from each other, Cas over by the door. "Late." 

Dean's grin turns dark, becomes seductive somehow. "Oh, I'd never be tardy for your class, Mr Novak."

Castiel disguises his answering splutter as a cough. Okay, yep, here's where he'll die. How the  _fuck_ is he going to get through this next hour. Why didn't he prepare for this?! He's got to at least  _try_ to teach Dean some science, because Crowley is not stupid and he _will_ notice if they don't do any work. Heck, if they don't get anything done, Crowley might  _fail_ him.  _And_ Dean. 

Dean is definitely, one hundred percent not going to make that an easy task. 

"So... I brought some stuff with me." Castiel says, his voice a little unsteady, reaching for his bag. He unzips it without looking towards Dean, trying to make it easier on himself. 

"Oh, did you?" Dean asks, and his tone is _beyond_ suggestive. 

"Um, yes," Castiel replies, blushing, pretending not hear the double entendre in Dean's voice, "some books that helped me during high school- this stuff can get pretty tricky, but once you know the basics-"

"Tell me, Mr Novak," Dean interrupts casually, and Castiel is so used to doing what Dean says, he shuts up immediately. He looks over at Dean warily, still not trusting himself to step any closer to the other boy. "What exactly is your disciplinary system?"

Castiel blinks at him. "What?"

"Your disciplinary system." Dean repeats, as if it's a completely normal thing to say. "If you had a... particularly troublesome student, say. How would you go about handing out the punishment for said student?" Castiel just stares at Dean, who grins widely. "Y'know, just so I'm aware. In case I decide to... play up."

Castiel's cheeks redden. "I-I don't know." He says lamely, fingers clutching his textbook to his chest like a shield. 

"C'mon... if I was really messin' you about. If I wouldn't shut up, kept throwing paper planes, all that shit. What would you do?"

"I suppose I..." Castiel trails off, looking unsure. He's so uncertain about what Dean is expecting from him right now. He's not supposed to be the one in charge! He can't hand out  _punishments_ \- that's Dean's role. But maybe Dean is testing him. How can Castiel be sure? "I suppose I would tell you to stop."

Dean raises his eyebrows, amused. "That so?"

Castiel nods unsurely. "Yes."

"And what if I didn't?" 

Castiel bites his lip for a second, conjuring up the preposterous hypothetical situation in his mind wherein Dean wouldn't stop misbehaving and Cas himself had to hand out a punishment. What the Hell  _would_ he do in that situation? 

Castiel draws in a deep breath, keeping his gaze steady. "I'd make you."

Dean's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. He parts his mouth a little, letting out a puff of surprised air. 

Castiel decides to try and get this runaway conversation back on track  _pronto_ because it's not going to end terribly for him well if it keeps barrelling down this path. 

"Anyway," Cas says as breezily as he can, getting out the rest of his textbooks from his bag, "we should really get started on some work."

He pauses, glancing up to see Dean nodding 'seriously', an amused twist to his features, as if he finds the whole thing a joke. "Oh, I concur. Let's do some Biology, Professor Novak."

Castiel pauses, trying hard to push everything that statement implies out of his mind, eyeing Dean. "Cas is fine. And we're going to look at Chemistry first."

"Well I'm sure we got plenty o'that too." Dean says straight away, smooth as a fucking car bonnet. Castiel gives him a 'look' and Dean winks back at him.

Lord help me, Cas thinks pleadingly, and makes his way over to the back of the class, trepidation in every step. He has to edge past the back of Dean's stool, trying hard to ignore the grinning boy as he stares up at Cas, and trying even harder not to notice Dean's hand pinching his buttocks before he sits on the stool next to him. 

Castiel allows a moment for himself to gather his courage before ploughing ahead. "Alright," he tries, eyes fixed firmly on the book in front of him, "Chemistry. We'll start with Molecular Bonding - the basics anyway. What do you know about-"

"Hold on." Dean says as Cas flips open the textbook. Castiel freezes as Dean leans close, bringing their faces together. He remains as still as possible even as Dean's thumb and forefinger reach up towards his cheek, plucking something from his skin. Dean smirks at him, and up close that smile is akin to a thousand watt bulb. "Eyelash."

"Oh." Castiel responds, hypnotised, his eyes flicking down to Dean's lips every few seconds because they won't do as they're told.

Dean holds the eyelash out for him on one finger, and Cas stares at it, uncomprehending. Dean raises his eyebrows. "Blow. And make a wish."

Castiel decides the best way to get past this quickly is just to get it over with. He blows lightly on the hair, closing his eyes, his mind settling on a wish before he has the chance to think it through properly.

_I wish that Dean won't tire of me._

He flushes at his own thought. Why did he wish for that?! It's a stupid thing to wish for in any scenario - obviously Dean will  _eventually_ tire of him. It's inevitable. 

Dean continues smiling away at him, noticing nothing amiss aside from Cas's burning cheeks. "...You were saying?"

Castiel blushes harder, realising he's been staring at Dean for far too long to be considered normal. He turns sharply back to the open book in front of him. The words are basically a jumble by this point. How is he going to teach Dean anything while he's so affected? 

"Um, yes... Molecular Bonding." 

"Ah yeah," Dean pipes up, taking Cas by surprise, "I'm all over this. It's when two molecules..." Castiel closes his eyes, cursing Crowley, Gabriel, everyone he can damn well  _think_ of- Dean's hand is on his thigh, travelling steadily upwards, fingers dangerously close to certain areas. "...have an undeniable  _draw_ towards each other, isn't that right?"

Castiel presses his lips together, too focused on the feel of Dean's hand upon him to do more than nod at what Dean is saying. 

"Uh huh," Dean confirms, nodding, "they're like..." Dean leans close, his mouth right by Castiel's ear. "... _pulled_ towards each other, huh? They can't help it. Poor suckers, they're just sucked in- all cause of this- this uh,  _profound bond_ that they share."

Castiel is vaguely aware by this point that Dean is talking a load of bullshit. This is the point where Tutor!Cas should jump in and steer this misled student back in the right direction, teach him that actually Molecular Bonding is about molecules having several different kinds of bonds and-

Cas flinches as though he's been shocked. Two of Dean's fingers have progressed to sliding over the front of his jeans, teasing over the crotch. Castiel can't help squirming a little, gripping the edge of the table with one hand. 

"Dean, we should-"

"Shhh..." Dean whispers, his other hand coming up to Cas's mouth, pressing a finger gently over his lips. "It's all good, Cas. You're an awesome tutor but... come on. I suck at Chemistry."

Castiel loses himself for a brief, fairly embarrassing few moments in the feel of Dean's finger against his mouth, but then he focuses on Dean's words. He frowns deeply, pushing Dean's hand away. 

"Dean, you don't suck at Chemistry. That's clearly not true."

Dean just sighs, and smiles, leaning away. His hand slips from Castiel's crotch, and though part of Castiel wants to drag it back and leap on the boy in front of him, the absence of Dean's touch does make it easier to concentrate. "Yeah, okay Cas."

There's no belief in Dean's words; they're empty. 

"Dean, do you really think that? You're smart enough to grasp this - it's not that hard and I just heard you talking about Molecular Bonds." Castiel pauses and he sees Dean rolling his eyes, a smirk on his face. "I mean... okay, so you need to go over some stuff about that but it's not impossible. You're smart Dean, anyone could see that. I mean, you _run_ a Fraternity."

Dean laughs, giving Cas a pitying look. He reaches up and brushes an errant curl behind his ear. Cas's cheeks warm, though he doesn't allow himself to stop trying. 

"I'm failing this class, Cas."

Castiel grits his teeth, frustrated. "Yes, but that's probably more to do with the fact you're never here! I mean, anyone would fail eventually if they didn't turn up to lessons..."

Castiel trails off as soon as he notices Dean's expression hardening. Castiel waits, breath held, for Dean to say something. What just happened? Did he say something out of place? I mean, yes, Castiel is potentially treading on dangerous ground here considering what Gabriel told him about Dean's sense of pride, but it's true isn't it?! Dean  _does_ skip his lessons. Often. Dean must know that this affects his overall chance of getting a decent grade.

All at once, Dean's expression slips into amusement again, his smirk back in place. Castiel knows that he's lost whatever of Dean's seriousness he held. 

"Are you telling me off for being absent, Mr Novak?" 

Castiel gulps, feeling Dean's hand return to his thigh. He tries to shake his head, but Dean's hand wanders over the semi that just won't quit, making him stutter. "I-I-"

"Gosh, Mr Novak..." Dean gasps, his voice full of light, teasing humour again. Castiel groans, partially because he's lost whatever chance he had of getting through to Dean, but more due to the fact that Dean's hand is lightly rubbing against him, coaxing his erection into existence under the lab bench. "You seem awfully hot and bothered, can I do anything to help?"

Dean's mouth is tantalisingly close. For the first time since he entered the room, Castiel allows himself to properly look at the boy in front of him - to really look. He's just as godlike in beauty as ever, every cell in his body vibrant and mesmerising in its radiance, all combining to create the most beautiful person Castiel has ever seen, still, to this date. 

He cannot fathom the very idea that he ever got to -  _still_ gets to - touch the person before him. Fawn-coloured freckles dance across Dean's face, interspersed with the shadow of his eyelashes, flickering over his sharp cheekbones. His bowed lips are stretched into a cheeky smile, eyebrows raised as he stares right back at Cas. 

Castiel knows he is helpless here.

He has strong willpower. He doesn't give in to peer pressure - he doesn't even understand the concept. People have tried before to coax him into doing things he doesn't want to do but he barely even notices; if he doesn't want to, he won't. That's just how he is. 

But with Dean it's so different. There's something inside Dean, something in his very essence that draws Castiel, exactly like the Molecules displayed in the book before him. Dean has latched himself onto Castiel somehow, gotten inside his mind, inside his soul. And now Castiel can't resist, he can't even begin to try - all it takes is a suggestive glance from Dean, a word even, and then he's putty in Dean's hands.

This is why, as Dean gives him a slow, teasing wink, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, Castiel blurts it out. 

Dean is silent for a few moments, the hand on Castiel's crotch stalling in its movements. Dean's mouth falls open. "...What did you just say?"

"I said..." Castiel breathes in heavily, closing his eyes around the words. "I said I'm wearing the plug."

Dean huffs a disbelieving laugh, but desire floods into his eyes, and he swallows, hard. Dean's gaze flicks downwards briefly, to Castiel's lap, and Cas stills, not knowing what to do next. 

Why the fuck did he just admit that? More than that... why is he even wearing the damn thing in the first place?! He just couldn't stop himself- earlier in his room, he told himself over and over that it was 'just on the off-chance', that nothing would actually happen but it didn't hurt to be prepared. He realises now that that was bullshit, that he was fully aware something  _would_ be happening, apparently even if he had to make it so.

A minute of silence ticks by - Dean seems to be at a loss for words. His fingers are stilled on Castiel's crotch, his eyes are darting about nervously. 

Finally,  _finally,_  he speaks. "Is this..." Dean's voice cracks a little and he clears his throat. "Is this my punishment?"

Something suddenly clicks in Castiel's mind. Like an epiphany of sorts, he is transported to another plane of existence momentarily. _Dean wants the drama_. It all adds up so clearly in Cas's mind now. Dean is a classic domineer to the untrained eye. He is an alpha male, it's almost  _expected_ of him to be like he is in the bedroom. But Dean is anything but typical, Castiel has learned, even in the short time he's known Dean. And though he puts on a damn good show, he is not wholly the person he claims to be - this overtly-masculine persona. 

No, Castiel has learned that Dean likes Sci-Fi movies, that he cuddles people subconsciously at night, that he is a sucker for a stupid pun, that he likes surprises. Sure, the alpha male thing is definitely present in Dean Winchester, without a doubt. He enjoys dominating, but he probably gets to do that all the time - maybe with every single partner he's ever been with, all because it's expected of him. What he  _loves_ is to be challenged. 

That's why he likes Cas so much, the younger boy realises at last. Cas is a threat to his masculinity simply by being male - but more than that, he keeps surprising Dean, forcing him to think on his feet. Dean really likes that. And he wants it now. He wants Cas to play his part, to try and take control of the situation at hand so that Dean can attempt to swipe that very control away again. 

After all, Dean was at the most aroused Castiel has ever seen him when Castiel tried to take control before, by making Dean jealous. 

Castiel is Dean's tutor right now. He needs to pretend, to do what Dean subconsciously desires. He needs to act like he is in charge, and then Dean will take him apart. Castiel almost glows with excitement. He's so proud of himself for figuring out what Dean needs. 

He rips Dean's hand away from his jeans, and after taking a huge gulp of courage, he leans forwards, gripping Dean's shoulders with both hands, staring into his eyes. "You're damn right, Winchester. Absence from _my_ class will Not. Be. Tolerated." 

Dean's mouth falls open, lust blooming in his eyes. Castle's stomach flips, perhaps the most nervous he's ever been, but he knows that he's succeeded. 

Dean's hands move up to Cas's waist, and the younger boy forces himself not to react. He has to stay calm for as long as possible, he has to act like he's unaffected. 

" _What_ exactly is my punishment, Mr Novak?" Dean breathes, and Castiel watches in rapture as Dean's eyes flutter.

Castiel leans away with a fair amount of difficulty, sitting back in his stool and trying not to pant. "Well firstly... you can remove your shirt."

Dean sends him a wicked grin, but to Castiel's shock, actually begins doing as requested. He shrugs off his jacket, and Castiel watches remorsefully as it's placed on the bench. That Letterman jacket... it does things to him. In his fantasies of Dean, he's almost always wearing it. To begin with, anyway.

Castiel's quickly distracted by the sight of Dean peeling off his black tee, revealing abs so perfect they look carved of marble. Castiel finds his mouth filling with saliva as he stares, eyes ending up - as ever - fixated on the tattoo over Dean's heart. Dean coughs, and Castiel looks up, remembering the situation. Dean is smiling again, seeing the slip in Castiel's control, and that won't do. 

"Now put the jacket back on." Castiel orders, and Dean, surprise on his face, does. Oh yeah, Cas thinks as Dean slips the Letterman jacket over his bare torso, this was an excellent decision. This is how Dean should be wearing his jacket always. "Good." Castiel pauses then, unsure of how to proceed. He thinks about what Dean might ask of him, if the situations were reversed. "You've been extremely bad, haven't you, Dean?" 

Castiel barely knows where his confidence is stemming from now, he's just finding a stride, and going with it. He'll deal with the repercussions and embarrassment later. It fuels his confidence further when Dean nods in reply, smirking only slightly.

"Yes, Mr Novak."

"How do you think you deserve to be punished, Dean? What would be an appropriate course of discipline for a naughty student such as yourself?"

He sees Dean shiver slightly at the sound of his voice, and Castiel marvels at it. Is he really eliciting the same kinds of feelings in Dean as he himself gets when Dean orders him around? Surely that's not possible. 

"I think-" Dean starts to say, and the beginnings of a flush are blooming in the older boy's cheeks. 

"Uh uh," Castiel interrupts, holding up a hand to silence him, "don't talk. Show me."

Dean shivers harder then, and his eyes slide shut for a second. He walks forward a pace, moving the stool he had been sitting on out of the way, creating space for himself. He stands right in front of Castiel, looking down at him, and Cas tries hard to hide the fact he's breathing in short stutters. He grips the edges of his stool to prevent himself from reaching out and touching Dean, spoiling the illusion of control he has. 

Nevertheless, Castiel's heart does skip a few beats when Dean drops to his knees in front of him. He presses his lips together tightly, not letting himself break eye contact with Dean for even a second. Dean's hands touch his knees and immediately slide up his thighs, fingers pressing deeply into Castiel's flesh, practically raking along his jeans. 

Castiel shivers because he can't possibly help it, and then Dean's hands are at the button of his fly, working at it insistently, getting it open in no time at all. It's so difficult not to react, Castiel thinks, fingers gripping tightly on the edge of the stool. How does Dean  _do_ this? Is he maybe just not as affected by this kind of thing as Cas is? After all, Dean has more experience with sexual matters. Maybe he's too used to the sensations to react as violently. 

Dean's hand has worked itself inside of Cas's jeans by this point, and Cas's eyes roll back a little way at the first touch of Dean's fingers against the heated skin of his penis. Dean has slipped his fingers through the slit in the front of Cas's underwear, and he takes hold of Cas's erection, merciless, and unsheathes in from its confines. 

Cas is now exposed and hard, his cock is out in the open, there on display in the empty classroom. He really sincerely hopes Crowley has taken his word for it about not needing to check on them. God, wouldn't that be a disaster. 

It's while Cas's thoughts stutter on this horrifying imagining that Dean first slips his glorious mouth over the tip of Castiel's erection. Cas can't help himself now, it's too much of a shock, too much intense sensation - he gasps loudly, jerking forwards, his hands threading themselves into Dean's hair, curling in the thick tendrils. 

He feels Dean smile around him, and curses internally, knowing that he just effectively lost the game. Castiel tried, he did, but he can't  _do_ it like Dean does, he can't be dominating and sexy and still have enough self-control to order someone about. Maybe one day he'll be able to, but almost certainly not with Dean and definitely not now. 

Dean pulls off, looking up at Castiel, his eyes lidded and heavy. He smirks, one hand holding Cas's dick. The only thing Cas can think is that he looks so ridiculously hot at this moment, his torso bare and golden, the jacket still on as he kneels between Cas's legs, gazing upwards. Castiel can barely fathom what he himself looks like, but he would guess not the epitome of control and domination that he was aiming for - not when he's practically salivating at Dean's appearance whilst simultaneously whimpering at the feel of Dean's hand wrapped around him. 

"You like that, Cas?" Dean asks, his voice sultry.

And just like that, it's back to how it was. 

Dean is the boss again, Castiel is his plaything. The younger boy really can't find it in himself to care at all, though he wonders briefly if Dean is disappointed Cas lasted in his new role for such a short amount of time. 

He nods in response to Dean's question anyway, moving his hips a little, searching for the feel of Dean's mouth on him again, and unsurprisingly, Dean's hand flies off his erection and, along with his other hand, pins his hips in place.

"Generally speakin'," Dean says, dipping his head down to brush his lips over Castiel's flushed shaft as he talks, "I don't let tutors tell me what to do."

Cas isn't listening, not really, or at least not in any real sense. He has a vague idea of what Dean is saying, but he's more focused on the movements the boy in front of him is making. Dean takes Castiel in his mouth then, a sudden swoop, and Cas groans as Dean sucks, his tongue curling around the length, his cheeks hollowing. 

It's mere moments however before he pulls off sharply, his glinting eyes meeting Cas's again, amused. 

"For you however, I guess I could make an exception." Dean continues, and Castiel just whimpers in response. Dean's tongue licks across him then, a long, drawn out path from the base of his penis to the very tip, where Dean pauses to lap up what Castiel has already spilled for him. Castiel's mind has long since stopped making sense by this point, and he just grips tighter into Dean's hair, tugging on the strands - not that Dean seems to care. "'Course, you'd have to make up for bossin' me about like you did. That's naughty Cas. You shouldn't do that unless you can follow through."

Castiel glares at Dean a little, hating him slightly for verbally acknowledging that Cas couldn't hack it when they briefly switched roles. He forces himself not to angrily retort though - not that any response would make a lick of sense considering his current state. He swallows down his irritation and slowly reaches for the persona he usually adopts in these situations with Dean - the submitting, 'I'll-literally-do-anything-you-ask-because-you're-driving-me-crazy' persona.

"How am I to make it up, Dean?"

Dean grins at him, and his only answer is to take Cas into his mouth again, working on him insistently, head bobbing up and down until Castiel is muttering obscenities, gibberish - whatever comes to mind. He can feel the curl of heat fanning into flames in his stomach, his orgasm impending, and he tells Dean as much, only to find that he immediately pulls off, sitting back on his haunches, panting slightly. 

Castiel stares at him incredulously, not daring to stroke himself the last few times he needs in case it's not what Dean wants. But  _still!_ Dean is not allowed to just leave him hanging like that, it's  _cruel._

"How can you make it up to me?" Dean repeats, smiling, and Castiel takes a few moments to catch on to what he's saying. "How 'bout you let me fuck that perfect ass o'yours again?"

Castiel groans, and he clenches his muscles around the plug still inside of him. It's somewhat uncomfortable, especially sitting down, but in a way it's exciting - it's a link to Dean, a way of being constantly aware of him. The plug is nothing like having Dean inside of him, it doesn't come close to that, but it's a reminder nonetheless. 

"Yes." Castiel replies, and Dean grins wickedly, getting to his feet - a little shakily, Cas notices. 

He pulls Castiel off his chair, bringing them face to face, Cas crushed against Dean's chest before he can even blink. Dean's arm wraps around Cas's waist, holding him tightly, and when Castiel blearily looks up, his attention mostly on the fact that his erection is pressed against Dean's groin right now, Castiel swears Dean is considering kissing him. Their faces are close, Dean looking down into Cas's eyes, his expression filled with wonderment. Cas can't imagine what the other boy is seeing that's getting that kind of reaction from him. 

There's a brief moment when Dean leans in slightly, their lips almost brushing, and Castiel _knows_ it happened, but then he jerks his head back, as if remembering he can't, that he's not allowed. The omnipresent smirk slips back into place on Dean's mouth, and all at once Castiel is spinning, Dean turning him the other way. Dean's hands are on his shoulders, urging him forwards, and Cas stumbles, his hands reaching out to brace himself against the lip of the bench before his hips smack into it. 

Dean's hands continue their pushing, and Cas has no choice but to lean forwards, bent in half, his chest and face pressing into the wood of the lab bench, his feet still planted on the floor. 

A sudden ripple of acute thrill passes over his entire body as he realises what's happening. Dean is doing just as he once described, long ago when they were back in The Roadhouse. He'd told Cas then, during their first sexual encounter, in heated whispers, that he'd imagined doing just this - bending Cas over a lab bench and 'fucking him nice and hard' Cas remembers, shuddering against Dean's touch on his back, 'until you scream my name' Dean had said. 

Dean is rucking up his sweater now, his warm, delicious hands sliding over Cas's lower back, fingers hooking underneath the waistband of his jeans. His pants are still undone, Cas realises, and Dean seems to be well aware because he starts to tug insistently, pulling Cas's jeans down over his ass. His underwear goes too, and Castiel keens when he realises the level of his exposure. He can't help angling his hips a little, presenting himself to Dean, so incredibly willing to take whatever he's given. 

It's a few moments before Castiel realises that Dean has stopped tugging Cas's jeans down, that they're still trapping his thighs together. Surely that's not ideal for this situation? Cas needs to be able to spread his legs at least a  _little-_ oh. Cas blushes deeply, realising what's happening. Dean is  _looking_ at him. He's stopped because he's seen the physical evidence of the plug for the first time. 

Cas wriggles, starts to lean up, to turn and explain himself, to do  _something,_ but Dean is quick to react. His hand presses itself firmly into the centre of Cas's back again, pushing him firmly forwards, though not hard enough to hurt. 

"Holy mother of Christ, Cas." Dean mutters, and Castiel drinks up the words eagerly, one cheek pressed to the table. Is Dean horrified? Was he only joking about the plug? He needs a reaction  _now._ "I didn't... I gotta say I didn't think you'd actually..."

As Dean trails off, Cas feels the fingers of Dean's other hand approach the plug for the first time. He brushes over it gingerly, but it doesn't matter, Castiel still reacts violently, sparks shooting through his nerve endings, all the way to his fingertips. His nails scratch into the wood of the table. 

"God." Dean breathes, possibly at the sight of Cas's reaction to that touch, though he can't be sure. All he can see is a sideways view of a portion of the classroom and lots of wood. "This was quite possibly the best thing I've ever asked you to do."

Cas cries out as Dean's fingers grip it now, tugging very slightly on it, teasing him. Dean laughs a little, though it sounds broken, full of lust. Dean's other hand starts to slide down Cas's back, slipping over the cheek of his ass, squeezing mercilessly. Castiel jerks a forwards a little, cursing violently. 

"Get  _on_ with it then." Cas grumbles, and Dean laughs properly this time. 

"So impatient." He chastises, slapping him lightly on the ass. "You uh... bring any lube with you, Cas?"

Fuck. No, he didn't. After all that packing and repacking and he forgot  _lube_?! What kind of an idiot is he? Sure, a butt plug is a goddamn  _necessity_ but lubricant - no that can  _clearly_ be left at home in a situation like this one. Fuck damn it. 

He groans. "No. Shit, I-"

"It's cool," Dean interrupts breezily, "think I might, uh, have some."

Castiel can feel it when Dean walks away, and he almost makes a sound of despair, but manages to hold it in. It's not like he's going far, he reminds himself. Though, it is a little strange that he is carrying around lube, is it not? Did he also come prepared to this lesson? The thought alone makes Castiel shiver with excitement. Surely not. He's probably just  _always_ prepared. After all, Dean is getting a lot of action, at least according to Gabriel. 

The train of thought ends there, because Dean slips back into position, depositing the bottle of lubricant on the bench right in Castiel's line of sight. It's the honey lubricant brand again, the same one Dean sent to him. Castiel can't help the excitement growing inside of him when he realises. But Dean had said he didn't have any more of that kind, right? That he gave his own 'personal stash' to Castiel?

"I uh, got some more of this stuff," Dean tells him, reading his mind, "I remember you like it."

Castiel is shocked. Dean physically went out of his way to by a particular brand of lubricant because he  _remembers that Cas likes it?!_ That's... that's sweet! That's a really nice gesture. And considering who the gesture came from, it makes almost no sense. 

He decides to work it out later though, because that's when he feels Dean start to get to work on him again, his hands pushing Cas's jeans all the way down his legs now, until Cas can step out of them. Dean wastes no time - he pulls Cas's legs wider apart himself, an action that makes Cas squeak a little. He's just getting his breath back when Dean apparently decides to give him a small bite, right on his left buttcheek. Cas makes an embarrassing noise when he feels it, his hips jerking. His erection feels like it's going to explode, he's so desperate for even the smallest of touches, though Dean doesn't seem to be too bothered about this fact. At least not yet. 

"Sorry," Dean says in explanation of his own actions, laughing away, "couldn't resist. You've got a delicious little ass, angel." 

Dean pats his butt again, squeezing a little, and then Castiel feels something wonderful. Dean drapes himself over Cas's back, his bared skin pressing down onto him. Dean picks up the bottle lazily, twirling it around in his fingers right before Cas's eyeline. His mouth is right by Cas's ear. "Ready, angel?"

Castiel bites his lip. "Yeah."

He sees Dean grin in his peripheral vision, and then there's a sense of loss as Dean leans up, away from him. The sensation of the plug being removed is unbelievable, Dean's hand drawing it out slowly, inch by inch, muttering curse words under his breath as he sees how stretched Cas is. Cas twitches and groans, his fingernails raking more lines into the bench. He can't  _wait,_ it's too much. He needs Dean now, needs to be filled again but with that brilliant  _more_ that only Dean can give him. He reaches out behind him blindly, whimpering as he struggles to clutch at Dean, failing miserably. 

It's only as he hears the sound of a belt unfastening that he understands why his quest is futile. Dean is undoing his jeans, breathing hard. Castiel waits as patiently as he can, but he knows he's going to combust if he has to wait much longer. 

" _Dean."_ He urges, hoping that Dean understands just from that. 

"S'ok, Cas. I'm here." Dean murmurs, and even in the heat of the moment, Cas thinks vaguely that it's a strange thing for him to say.

He hears the cap of the lube popping open, and moans loudly, dick twitching at the unmistakeable slick sounds of that same lubricant being lathered onto Dean's cock. He wishes above anything else at this moment that he could turn to look, but he knows Dean would punish him if he tried. And he wants this so badly. 

"Fuck," Dean hisses, amusement in his voice, "'s'tingly." 

Castiel huffs a hysterical laugh, realising Dean is slightly more unfamiliar with this lubricant. 

And then he feels Dean against him for the first time, the head of Dean's cock lining itself up with where he's stretched open. He sucks in a breath, biting his lip, willing Dean to hurry up because he feels like he's going crazy. 

He can't stand it anymore. "Come  _on_ ," Cas cries, utterly mad with want, "don't bother with going slow, just get inside me,  _please._ "

Dean doesn't respond for a second, as if processing, and even this short pause nearly drives Castiel insane. "Fuck, Cas..." Dean's voice is strange, strained with want, but also with something else, something unidentifiable, "you might damn well be the best thing that ever happened to me."

Before Cas can even  _begin_ to wrap his head around that statement, Dean pushes forwards, sliding in in one deep thrust; Castiel's heart speeds up, his nails dig into the wood, practically splintering it- holy  _shit,_ there is no sensation in the universe that could compare to this one, to the feel of Dean thrusting into him completely, burying himself inside.

" _Jesus,"_ Dean says as he inches slowly back out again, " _God fucking damn."_

Castiel couldn't agree more. 

Seeing that Castiel's response is definitely positive, Dean continues to thrust in then, taking Cas's advice and not bothering to go slow. Cas cries out with each push of Dean's hips, feeling every curve, every crevice of Dean inside him, relishing the feel of Dean dragging over his most intimate parts, filling him up entirely. 

Dean finds his prostate without much difficulty and Castiel near sobs with the pleasure that forces itself through him. He clutches behind himself at Dean's thighs, pulling him forwards again and again. Dean is merciful this time - it's not long before he reaches for Cas's neglected erection, pumping him hard and fast, matching the rhythm of his rapidly snapping hips. 

"Fuck angel, you are so damn hot," Dean pants, and all Cas can do is whine underneath him, his face still pressed against the wood, not daring to move, "I could fuck you all day, I really could. Listen to you makin' those gorgeous sounds... fittin' myself inside your tight little hole."

Cas listens in rapture, desperate to come, but also wanting to wait, to hear Dean's filthy words, because he  _loves_ it, Dean is right. He was right that time he'd said he could probably get Cas off just by talking to him, and in a way he has- what with the phone sex. 

"I'd like that..." Cas manages to reply, hoping to urge Dean on. 

"Yeah, I bet you would." Dean affirms, his thrusts getting more erratic now, but deep and forceful, jolting Cas's hips with each one - he's close. "Can't believe I'm the only one that gets to do this to you, Cas. You're so incredible..." Cas can feel how Dean's balls are tightening, he's going to come any second. "Fuck- you're fuckin'  _perfect_ y'know that? Incredible. And you're all mine, isn't that right, angel?"

Cas moans wantonly at that. He'd thought that when Dean said that before, it was just an extreme reaction to Cas trying to make him jealous by flirting with other people. To hear him say that now, out of context... it's unbelievable. It barely makes any sense, but Castiel couldn't be more turned on by it. He feels his balls tightening, the edges of his orgasm threatening to spill over at any moment. "Yes, Dean, all yours."

They come simultaneously, and it's the strangest thing Cas has experienced yet with Dean. They get off at exactly the same time, at Dean's possessive comment, and Cas's confirmation of it. Cas's orgasm is blinding, and it floods through him in waves; Dean empties his seed inside of Cas, coming and coming until Cas is writhing and squirming because the sensitivity is overpowering. 

He sags against the bench when he recovers, utterly spent. Dean chuckles and leans forwards, breathless. He presses his lips to the back of Cas's neck, which is damp with sweat, and eases himself out of Cas carefully. 

"Mmmm." He says against Cas's skin. "Well I certainly feel I've learned my lesson, Mr Novak."

Castiel reaches up lazily and swats at his head. "Can I get up now?" 

Dean laughs, and kisses his neck again. "Yeah. C'mon, I'll help."

Castiel resists this at first, insisting he is perfectly capable of standing upright on his own, but he quickly realises this is not as simple as it seems. He leans up too fast, his cheek peeling stickily away from the now-warm wood, and his head swims alarmingly. He stumbles, immediately finding that his legs are jellified, and he falls backwards, into Dean's arms, his back against Dean's chest. He stares hesitantly up into Dean's face. He's wearing a look of amusement.

"Still don't need my help?" 

"Okay, simmer down." Castiel grumbles, and he tries to right himself, but Dean's arms are winding around him, giving him no possible chance of escape. He gives up after a pointless few seconds of resisting. Dean is really annoyingly strong. "I'm fine, honestly."

Dean stares down at him fondly, smiling away. "Cas, you're gonna get a head rush if you stand up too fast, that's just science."

"How apt." Castiel says sarcastically, gesturing to the science lab they are standing in. 

Dean rolls his eyes, smiling. "Just let me help you for a sec, your legs are gonna be a bit weak I would guess, and you're gonna probably be a little sore." 

Castiel shifts uncomfortably, averting his gaze from Dean's. Well it's not like he was going to  _broadcast_ the fact but well... yeah. He's maybe a  _little_ sore now. It's a small price to pay for what just happened however. 

Castiel sighs, relenting, and Dean starts to carefully move them backwards until he finds a stool, at which point he sits down, pulling Cas onto his lap. Cas splutters a little, feeling indignant, but Dean holds firm, peering round to smirk at Cas from over his shoulder. 

"Dean. This is ridiculous." Cas states, suddenly very aware of the fact that he and Dean are both pants-less - he wasn't even aware Dean had removed any clothing. He's still wearing the Letterman jacket though, Cas notices, and his eyes glaze when he pictures Dean fucking him from behind still wearing it. "I, um, I... can... I mean, I'll be ok if you..."

Dean's brow creases, though his smile doesn't fade. "Woah, I know that look, what's gettin' you all flustered again so soon?"

"N-nothing." Castiel responds, forcing the thoughts of the Letterman jacket out of his disobedient brain. "Will you put me down now?"

"No." Dean says, so blazé that Castiel may as well have been asking if it was Saturday. "Not if you're not gonna behave." 

Castiel's dick twitches and he hates himself for it. For fuck's sake, he's clearly been feeding this newly found 'I-like-to-be-dominated' fetish way too liberally lately. Dean sees the telltale sign of his arousal and laughs, though Castiel feels Dean's penis jerking in interest too, and ok- that's very new. Dean's cock is right underneath Cas right now - in fact, if he were erect...

Castiel purposefully doesn't finish that thought. He decides to distract Dean from his growing arousal. "What was all that about anyway?"

"What?"

"With you getting me to order you about." Castiel clarifies, though he's pretty sure he already knows the answer of course. "That's um, not how it usually goes."

Dean just grins at him, though Cas can see something hidden behind those eyes. "I just thought it was funny how you were my tutor. I wanted to see if you could live up to the role." Castiel studies him carefully, eyes narrowed. He smells bullshit. "Plus," Dean pinches his sides lightly, and Cas squeaks, "you get all cute and bossy when we're... um, in the middle of things. I thought maybe it'd be fun to try it out that way around."

Castiel growls. "And I failed."

Dean laughs, pulling Cas's face towards him with one finger under his chin. "You didn't fail, you're just less comfortable doin' it that way round than I am." Dean glances at Cas's lips. "And that's okay, Cas." Castiel barely breathes. This is one of those moments that spells trouble - the moments where Dean is too nice, too lovely and sweet to him and Cas is finding himself tumbling further and further- "Plus," Dean continues, his grin breaking out suddenly, "it was damn hot while it lasted, gorgeous."

As if validating Dean's words, Cas stutters a gasp at the feel of Dean's cock hardening slightly beneath him. His own dick immediately responds in kind of course, and he can't seem to control himself all of a sudden. He rolls his hips, loving the sight of Dean's grin slipping away, being replaced with something darker, more intense. So Cas does it again, pressing the swell of his buttocks into Dean's semi, feeling it slot between his cheeks with a stifled groan, sliding into position at the entrance of his hole again. 

Dean reacts quickly then - one arm winds itself around Cas's middle, holding him tightly in place, and his other shoots out to grab the lip of the lab bench, pulling them forwards on the stool until they're basically sitting at the desk. And Cas understands. He grabs hold of the desk and uses it to lever himself upwards a little way, listening intently to each of Dean's thrown curses as he lines himself up again, spitting on his hand, and using it to coat his dick a little. 

Cas sinks down onto him after only a short while; he's too impatient for this, he can't deal with waiting around to feel this good, even if it means it might hurt less later. This feeling, this indescribable feeling, is worth every burn he'll feel over the next few days, and as he sinks down into Dean's lap, Dean biting at his shoulder, his hands gripping Cas's hips, he has no regrets. 

Castiel does the moving for them this time, using the desk to lift himself up and down, clenching around Dean's cock because he can't get enough of the noises Dean is making every time he does. Dean tries to meet him with shallow little thrusts, but Castiel soothes him with strokes, showing him its unnecessary, that he's got this one. He'll get them there. 

Dean is incoherent now, he's spewing all sorts of nonsensical things, telling Cas that he really is an angel, that he was sent from the Heavens above. Castiel just keeps going, not caring that his legs hurt with the strain, or that his fingertips burn where they dig into the desk, he angles himself just right, letting Dean's cock brush over that spot again and again, until his eyes fill with hot, pleasure-induced tears. 

Dean grasps him loosely in one hand, jerking him with steady movements, and then Cas comes hard, maybe harder than before, all over his legs, over Dean's hand, which keeps up its rhythm even after Cas is breathing through the aftershocks. He realises that Dean is still inside of him, feels Dean's arms wrapping around his waist, squeezing tight, the older boy's mouth sucking and biting at the backs of his shoulders. He speeds up then, reaching an arm behind his head to grasp Dean's, pushing down onto him again and again until Dean is crying out, swearing- except that its Cas's name he blasphemes. Then he comes too, again, his release pouring into Castiel and slipping out of him, messy and exhilarating, Dean shaking with the force of it. 

 _"Fuck."_ Dean says bluntly after a minute or so has passed. Cas sits up then, feeling Dean slip free of him, and this time, somehow, he's able to stand. He's weak though. He turns slowly, steadying himself with the bench, and looks at Dean, seeing a shadow of the boy that sat smirking in here before, when he first entered the room, and feeling extremely proud. "Cas, you... fuck."

Cas doesn't blame Dean for not being able to articulate his words. After all, the amount of times that's happened to Cas so far... it's not even funny. 

"I think  _now_ you've been satisfactorily punished." Cas says, and Dean groans, closing his eyes and smiling. 

* * *

 

There are seconds,  _seconds_ to spare between Cas getting his jeans done back up, straightening his clothes and sitting down (slightly wincing as he does so) and there being a knock on the door. Dean sends Cas an amused, shocked glance, wordlessly conveying what a close fucking call that was, and then Crowley enters the room. 

He takes in the scene before him with a narrowed eye. Dean and Cas are sat side by side, the textbook Cas had originally opened still spread out before them. Dean leans over, pretending to be lost in whatever he's reading, and Cas looks up, trying to look like his heart isn't currently in his throat. 

"Oh, hello Professor." Castiel says, willing his voice to be even. Did they leave a trace of anything anywhere? Where did Dean put the lube?! Relax, Castiel thinks, he must have put it away. Oh God! The plug! No no, Castiel's voice of reason says calmly, it's in your bag, you just put it there. "Is everything alright?"

Crowley studies them for a second more, silently. Castiel feels certain he's about to be outed as an uncontrollable Frat-boy-fetished nymphomaniac. 

"It's the end of the period, Castiel." Crowley says slowly, and Castiel is startled. What? It's been an hour already? "You're late to my class."

"Oh, fuck. I mean! God, sorry Professor, I meant um, darn." He ignores Dean's amused look next to him, kicking him under the table silently. "So sorry, I just didn't notice the time. Me and Dean were just going over, um... uhh..."

"Molecular Bonding." Dean supplies helpfully, glancing up at Crowley with a grin. 

Crowley looks astounded. "You... you were?" Castiel shrugs, nodding. "So... it went okay then, yes?"

"Oh absolutely Professor." Dean answers before Cas can reply. He shuts the textbook, leaning back in his stool and grinning. "Cas here is a damn  _fine_ tutor. I learned all sorts. You can send him back anytime."

"Right." Crowley says, his gaze flicking between them curiously. "Perhaps we'll think about making this a permanent... thing then." 

Castiel's cheeks heat up at the very idea. Here, with Dean, in this room. Every. Single. Week. Maybe even twice a week! Think of all the things they could do in that time, think of all the ways they could... Castiel shivers, and luckily Dean takes the reins again.

"Great." Dean says enthusiastically. "Y'know, I think Cas and I," Dean turns to Cas, slinging an arm around his shoulders, catching him by surprise, "might even turn out bein' friends."

Crowley studies them for a long moment, one eyebrow raised. "Fantastic. Will you please move your behind to my class now please, Castiel?"

Castiel blushes again, and nods, getting up from his seat, wincing again slightly. "Yes, of course- I'll just grab my-"

"Oh for Christ's sake I'll see you in there." Crowley says, rolling his eyes. "Just hurry up will you?"

Cas nods, and Crowley storms out of the class, muttering something under his breath. Cas turns to Dean hesitantly, still standing up. "So, I'll just uh..."

"See you soon, Mr Novak." Dean says, winking. Castiel nods, his cheeks red, and turns to go, grabbing his bag.

Just before he can scoot out from behind the desk however, Dean grabs his wrist. "Hold up," Dean says, and his face looks relatively serious, "I gotta tell you, uh- not that you'd particularly um, care I guess, but just in case y'know..." Castiel waits expectantly, blinking at Dean. "I'm not gonna be around for a couple o'days. I won't be here Thursday if you're, y'know, plannin' on pervin' on me as I come outta class." Dean grins at him cheekily and Castiel slightly wants to die. "But seriously yeah, I won't be here so... y'know just in case you came lookin'. You can still text me or call me though." Dean pauses, letting go of his wrist suddenly, as if he only just remembers he's holding it. "Y'know, if you want to."

Castiel nods, processing. He wonders for the thousandth time where the Hell Dean keeps running off to. "Alright." He gives Dean a small smile. "I'll text you then."

Dean smiles back, looking a little relieved for some reason. "Awesome. Can't wait." They stare at each other for a while, neither really knowing why. "Alright angel, time for class." Dean says eventually, that fond look bubbling up in his eyes again. "Run along."

Castiel does turn to leave then, with nothing but a brief wave to say goodbye. He knows Dean wouldn't appreciate any gushing. He slips out of the classroom door and almost collapses, not only from the aches he's gotten over the past hour, but also just from the sheer intensity of what just happened. He limps down the corridor, entering Crowley's room with a smile he can't hide. 

That was perfect.

Right?

 

 

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They had to hit the rocks sometime, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there :) 
> 
> I have to warn you about some things that may be a trigger for some people. Basically things get into dub-con territory in this chapter, bordering on abusive. But it's mild again, I don't want to get anyone feeling uncomfortable, but if you really felt like dub-con might be an issue for you, then skip this chapter maybe. 
> 
> On the other hand, this chapter has some good stuff too, some stuff that needed to be addressed I think. I hope you all like it, I'm sorry about the angstiness. Over soon.
> 
> Love you all xxx

The next few days breeze past in a fairly pleasant way. Castiel isn't as on edge as usual, because he knows he's not going to bump into Dean around the next corner, and even though that takes some of the excitement away from his day, it's like a nice calm interval in the new chaos of his life. The eye of the storm, perhaps you could say. 

He even manages to concentrate a little more during lessons - though not completely. I mean, he's got a lot to mull over in his mind nowadays, what with all the times he and Dean have met up now. There's so much to go over, to analyse. Castiel finds himself doing it even unconsciously - he doesn't particularly want to be picking apart everything Dean has ever done or said when they're together, but it seems impossible not to when Dean himself is such a closed book, when it's so difficult to understand his motivations, to know what he wants. 

By the end of college on Thursday, Castiel is still a little sore from his and Dean's shenanigans two days prior, not that he particularly minds. He gets back to his room and decides that tonight, he will text Dean. Just to find out how he's getting on. 

He changes into his pyjamas, boils the kettle for tea and has a quick slice of toast. He doesn't want anything distracting him from the imminent conversation. He settles himself on his bed, smiling happily, tea in one hand, phone in the other. He's proud of himself for waiting this long to make contact. And Dean did say he could text or call. He types out his message, eager.

 **Castiel Novak**  
Hey

Excitement tingles under his skin; he craves these little snippets of conversation with Dean, however short they may be and even if they inevitably descend into sexual innuendos and chaos that ends with Castiel getting himself off afterwards. He just enjoys talking with Dean, he finds it exhilarating. Dean is full of surprises, and it keeps him on edge, but also he's just a funny, genuinely nice guy. Or at least he is to Castiel. Dean's reputation suggests otherwise, but Castiel judges things for himself thank you very much. 

Five minutes pass, and there's still no reply from Dean. Castiel's tea is starting to cool. He frowns, chewing his fingernails. Perhaps Dean is in the shower? If there even is a shower wherever Dean is right now. Which is where? Castiel wonders yet again, the curiosity burning inside of him. 

Fifteen minutes later, and Castiel is halfway through his tea, and all of the fingernails on his right hand have been chewed off. He decides to send another text.

 **Castiel Novak**  
Hello? Anyone there?

Wait a minute, Cas thinks, alarmed, the second after he presses the 'send' button. What is he  _doing?_ Dean has every right not to reply! He doesn't owe Cas anything!

Castiel throws his phone onto the bed, groaning. He's behaving like a stereotypical teenage girl, agonising over his phone, desperate for a text from his-

His phone buzzes. He heard it, he definitely did. Cas reaches forward and snatches it up from the bedclothes, eyes boring down on the device hungrily.

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
Hey Cas.

 **Castiel Novak**  
How are you?

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
Honestly? I'm not great.

The slight, eager smile on Castiel's lips falls away. Dean's upset? Castiel realises he's never even considered the possibility that Dean might be unhappy. He's got too much bravado, it knocks any doubts about his emotional security right out of Cas's brain. 

 **Castiel Novak**  
Oh no, is something the matter?  
Can I do something to help? :(

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
Nah don't sweat it. But... now   
isn't really a great time, Cas.

Castiel's face falls further. 

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
Can we talk tomorrow? I'll text  
you.

 **Castiel Novak**  
Okay. Talk tomorrow. 

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
Yeah, speak soon.

The phone drops out of Castiel's hand and he flops back on the bed, back against his pillows. This is infuriating. He hates not knowing anything about Dean, it makes things so difficult. Obviously Dean isn't a sharing and caring kind of guy and that's okay, but Cas can be there for him, he can offer advice or even just  _listen._ He tries to dredge up any memories of Dean telling Cas anything about himself at all - there isn't a whole lot. After the Halloween party Dean had said he has a younger brother, and Castiel thinks that might be who is in the photograph with him in his room at the Frat House. 

But aside from this snippet of information, Castiel's knowledge of Dean is limited. Okay, so he's getting into advanced knowledge territory regarding Dean's sexual preferences, but there's no certainty that Cas isn't just one of thousands of people at the college who knows how Dean likes to 'bang' (as Gabriel would put it). Castiel knows nothing of Dean's past, doesn't know what he plans to do after college - he knows he likes the Star Wars movies, but then so do thousands of people.

Cas stares up at his stained ceiling and wishes that Dean would actually _talk_ to him once in a while, about something real. Don't get him wrong, he loves their conversations - especially when they drift into... naughtier territory, but Dean is a person after all, he's got to have other things on his mind. And Cas's emotions are pretty frayed by this point. He could use a bit of nice, easy, stable conversation every once in a while.

For instance, if Dean would just tell Cas where he keeps disappearing off to! It's such a mystery - and Castiel suspects that wherever he is something to do with his current unhappiness. Like when Cas saw Dean for the first time at his party and he looked exhausted, completely drained. That was right after he'd skipped class on Thursday, presumably to disappear off to his mystery spot again. Cas wants to pick up his phone and demand Dean talk to him, because it's not doing the other boy any good to just sit and stew in whatever it is that's bothering him. 

Cas can help him. He just wishes Dean would let him try. After all, he loves the guy. 

Castiel's sipping his tea absently, scrolling through the messages they just sent to each other, and then he chokes, spluttering a little, realising the thought that nonchalantly flitted through his mind. 

He  _loves_ Dean? 

Castiel drops the phone, staring into space. That can't be true. That's  _ridiculous._ It's also horrifying. 

Castiel cannot be in love with Dean Winchester, there's no way that can happen. He's just going to have to shake that thought out of his brain, and steer clear of Dean-thoughts for a while. Sure, he cares about Dean, and he worked out long ago that his feelings worked their way into this mess, and Dean is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and he's secretly kind of nerdy, and he laughs at Cas's jokes and he's everything Cas has ever dreamed about but- oh God,  _love?_

Castiel's never even been in love! 

The repercussions of that emotion on that particular recipient are so, so not okay. Because if Castiel does in fact love Dean, there's no possible future in existence wherein Dean will reciprocate that feeling. Dean Winchester is a classic bad-boy, use-em-n-lose-em kind of guy, and Castiel cannot be in love with him because that would make him the stupidest being in the whole of existence. He is literally just throwing himself into a line of fire with a grin plastered on his face. How could he have allowed this to happen? 

He actually wants to smack himself in the face. 

* * *

 

Dean doesn't text him on Friday. He said he would, but to be honest Castiel has no real right to feel disappointed. Dean is under no obligations to text Cas and update him on personal things. Castiel is not his... his...  _boyfriend._

Cas cringes at the word, mostly because the pain of the realisation that that will likely never be a possibility. It's Saturday now, and Castiel is sitting in his room again despite doing exactly the same thing all day yesterday - Fridays are his day off, and he spent most of it by the phone, watching it like a hawk in case Dean made contact. 

He has been getting some work done though, weirdly. It's just because nothing else will take his mind off things. He can't even  _deal_ with the whole love realisation right now, that's fucking huge and if Cas sits down and thinks about it for too long, he begins having a panic attack. 

So he works methodically, textbook open in front of him, plotting out the practice questions Crowley has set in careful, neat print in his work book. He sighs as he works, glancing at the clock every once in a while and finding that time is dragging. Eventually darkness falls however, and Castiel allows himself a break. He pushes back from his desk, stretching and groaning. His head swims a little from staring at the page for too long. 

He checks his phone (of course) but there's no message. This sucks, he thinks miserably, and wishes he could call Gabriel. His brother, despite his annoying-ness, is superb at cheering Castiel up, mainly because he's got so much sugar coursing through him all the time that he's constantly perky. But he's still angry with Gabriel, and he just  _isn't_ going to be the one to apologise first this time, because Gabe has had this one coming. He needs to know that Castiel is growing up, that he can't be treated like a kid anymore. 

If Gabriel ever gets his head out of his ass and apologises (trés unlikely), then maybe things can go back to how things were. 

There's a knock at Castiel's door. 

It startles him, and he looks down at himself self-consciously. He's in sweatpants and a black t-shirt, the same things he's been wearing since he got up this morning. He runs a hand over his jaw - he hasn't shaved today either. He adjusts his glasses and goes to the door nonetheless, trepidatious in case it's Becky or one of his other flatmates, probably wanting to laugh at him for some unfathomable reason that Cas cannot be bothered with. 

He opens the door. Dean is standing there, his leather jacket falling off one shoulder, a half empty bottle of whiskey in one hand. He looks awful, the worst Cas has ever seen him, which is still astoundingly beautiful obviously, but still. His eyes are glistening and pained, his eyelids drooping as though he's worn out just from getting here. He can't stand straight either, and from a few fairly obvious deductions, Castiel can tell that he's pretty drunk. 

"Alright, sweetheart." Dean drawls, and pushes his way past Castiel into the room. Castiel, not sure what else to do, closes the door behind him and turns. Dean is standing in the middle of his room, and he seems to be squinting at the light. He gives Castiel a weak version of his telltale grin, and raises his bottle towards him. "Nice glasses."

Castiel blushes despite everything, and reaches up to take them off, but Dean stops him, lurching forwards. 

"No, no no. Keep 'em." Dean says, and up this close, Castiel can smell the whiskey on his breath. How much has he had? "They're cute. Suit you."

Usually having Dean this close to him would have Castiel practically drooling by this point, but for some reason tonight it's not having quite the same effect. He watches warily as Dean leans over to put the bottle down on the desk, right on top of Castiel's work book. Cas tactfully decides not to protest. 

"Um, what are you doing here, Dean?" Castiel asks, reaching out to steady Dean when he wobbles slightly as he straightens up. 

Dean grins at him half-heartedly, one hand coming up to tilt his chin. "Came to see you o'course."

Castiel chews his lip worriedly. What is he supposed to do in this situation? Dean is drunk enough that Cas is pretty sure he won't remember anything tomorrow. He's got to try and get Dean... to what? To leave? To go to his own bed all the way across campus and then down Fraternity Row? What's he going to say if Castiel tries to persuade him to go? What if he's upset or angry?

Maybe he could put Dean in his own bed, he reasons. But even as he says this, Dean's hand is tangling in his hair, pulling him close, and Castiel is helpless. Whiskey or not - this is  _Dean._ Cas reckons the guy could be covered in sewage and he'd still be able to get into Cas's pants. 

"Good thing I did, too." Dean slurs, and his other hand wraps around Cas's waist, tight. "Cause you're lookin' damn fuckable, gorgeous."

Castiel feels like a block of butter in a sizzling pan, sliding into liquid form, gripping Dean's jacket just for something to hold on to. "Are you sure you want to...?"

Cas trails off, not ending the sentence, but Dean knows what he means. He looks pissed off for a minute. "I'm sure." 

Then Dean's hand tightens in his hair, pulling hard - Cas can't help the yelp that escapes him. Dean seems to think for a minute, hands gripping Cas tightly, and then he turns the younger boy, pushing him forward until he hits the wall by his bed. Cas's arm is trapped between his chest and the wall, and his head spins a little where Dean pins him there, chest against Cas's back, and Cas grits his teeth. 

The wall is cold, hard and unforgiving against the bumps of his body, and Dean grinds into him from behind, pushing him forward into it. I'm in pain, Cas realises as Dean grinds his hips into the swell of Cas's ass, squeezing Cas's trapped arm mercilessly. He feels tears gathering in his ducts and is surprised at himself. This hurts, he thinks, and Dean has him trapped in this position, one of Dean's hands pinning Cas's other arm above his head, the other still tangled in Cas's hair, pulling on the tendrils incessantly. 

For the first time since this began, Castiel is afraid. He's afraid that Dean is too out of it to be in control like he is normally. He's never seen Dean this drunk before, he has no idea what he might do. Like Cas was thinking on Thursday, he really doesn't know Dean that well at all. 

Because if you'd asked him a couple of days ago if he thought Dean would barge in, drunk as all hell and  _hurt_ him, well. He would have said no. 

He feels Dean's hand leave his hair and start clawing at his shirt. Dean's hands aren't firm and careful like normal, now they're frantic and insistent, his nails catching on Cas's bare skin as he tears the fabric of his t-shirt. It's his Morrissey t-shirt, he loves it. He cries out, but Dean seems too involved in what he's doing to hear or care. He feels Dean's hand sliding roughly up his back, pulling the t-shirt so it chokes him a little.

He can't do it. He has to stop this - this isn't Dean, it's hurting him, he has to stop.

"Dean, wait."

"Quiet, Cas. Just let me..." Dean's hips push forwards again and he moans a little, but Cas can feel he's barely even hard. Why is he doing this?

"Dean."

There's no indication that Dean has even heard him, and that's when Castiel, teeth puncturing his lower lip, a tear forming in his eye, knows what he has to say.

"Croatoan."

All movement stills, and the only sound are Dean's exerted breaths. Castiel feels the hand whipping out from under his t-shirt. 

"What?!" Dean hisses, and Cas feels Dean's hands move to his shoulders, swinging him around until his back hits the wall, Dean crowding in close to him. He looks terrifying, and Castiel whimpers a little, palms sweating. Dean's fingers clamp down on his shoulders a little. "What did you say?"

"C-croatoan." Castiel repeats, and he watches as the clouds form in Dean's eyes. The older boy says nothing for a moment, and then his eyes slide closed.

Half a minute passes, and Cas wants to reach out, to say it's okay, he just didn't like it that time, but he's too afraid. 

"Fuck!" Dean yells after a while, and without another word, he whirls around, grabs his bottle off the desk, and walks to the door.

Castiel's eyes widen as he realises what's happening, and he takes a step to follow, but finds his knees are weak. Dean doesn't look back, he doesn't say another word. He pulls open the door and storms out, slamming it shut behind him. 

Castiel sinks to the floor, his world crashing around him. What has he done?

* * *

 

Cas isn't really aware of time passing. It seems to him that Dean leaves, he crumbles to the floor, and moments later sunlight is pouring through his window. It takes a while to be able to move his limbs - everything seems heavier somehow, as though he hadn't noticed the weight of his own body before, or the gravity pushing down on it.

He manages to lift his arm, and moves his hand to cover his eyes, attempting to block out the sunlight. He knows he hasn't slept, but maybe if he waits in darkness, unconsciousness will overtake him. He feels his glasses, still on after everything, and pulls them off shakily, putting them aside. He lifts his hands to feel the grooves that he knows must be etched into his skin by now, probably red and glaring. He actually lets out a surprised squeak when he feels the dampness on his cheeks and around his eyes. He's crying, his mind tells him, and the thought startles him. He just hadn't noticed.

His mind is a jumbled mess. He can't pin one thought down long enough to work through it properly, all he knows is what just occurred, and the scene replays over and over in his mind, though sometimes it's distorted - sometimes Cas will be yelling at Dean, anger in his expression. Sometimes Cas will have physically pushed him out of the door. It doesn't really matter, he basically did that anyway, he thinks. 

In his haze, he notices his phone lying next to him on the floor, a lifeless object now. No longer a promising portal to Dean. There's no way Dean will ever contact him again, surely. Not now. 

He picks it up, tasting the tears for the first time, and holding it in his cupped palms, staring blankly, as if willing it to come to life. He presses a button on it, and it lights up, the time blinking at him in bold white lettering: 14:03pm. 

It's later than he suspected. He still can't move though, not yet. He has enough sense to know he's in a pretty bad state right now. He needs guidance, he's way out of his depth, and he's genuinely worried about some of the thoughts flicking through his brain. _Without Dean, what does he even have?_

No, he thinks, pushing the thought away, he can't let himself wallow any longer. He needs help. So he decides to reach out to the only person, other than Dean, who he thinks might still offer it. 

 **Castiel Novak**  
Gabe, I think I'm-

Castiel's eyes fill with tears again, and he is still for a moment, waiting for them to clear so that he can type. But what should he say? Gabriel is presumably still mad at him. Cas basically tried to cut him off after all. The tears fall from his eyes, one landing on the screen, and he wipes it away messily with the hem of his t-shirt. He feels where it's ripped, and lets out a fractured noise, remembering all over again. 

Suddenly, before he can finish typing, a text comes through, making him jump.

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
I'm sorry Cas. I never wanted to  
hurt you.

Castiel stares at it, dumbstruck.  _Dean_ is sorry? Cas is the one that basically humiliated him, kicked him out. He chokes on more tears, feeling them coming up thick and fast again, and he can't help but think that text sounds a lot like a goodbye, and he feels himself slipping under a wave of hopelessness-

"Hello?" A familiar voice says.

Castiel blinks dumbly, realising the phone is pressed to his ear. 

"Helloooo? Cassy? Did you ring me up just to silent-treatment me? Oh right, and  _I'm_ the immature one."

Castiel lets out a breath of relief when he realises he didn't do something incredibly stupid. Like calling Dean. 

"Gabe.." Cas breathes, hearing himself for the first time, and wincing at how incredibly broken he sounds.

"Cassy? Jeez, you sound terrible, what's wrong?"

Castiel looks heavenward, wondering where on earth to begin. 

"Gabe... It's bad. I don't know... I think I'm- I'm in trouble, Gabe."

His voice is barely above a murmur he can tell, but he hears Gabriel suck in a breath, clearly understanding every word. 

"Fuck," his brother hisses, "I  _knew_ this would happen. Where the freaking fuck is he? I'm gonna kill him. And then I'm gonna resuscitate him, and then do it again, and then a couple  _more_ times-"

"Gabriel," Cas interrupts, pleading, "please just... I don't know what to do, can you... could you come-"

"Are you kidding me?" Gabriel butts in, sounding pissed, though there's an undertone of deep, protective affection. "I'll be right over, Cassy. Just stay put."

Castiel doesn't even bother with a goodbye, he just lets the phone fall from his ear. His muscles ease out some of their tension, and from the pain that simple movement causes, Cas realises he's been hunched in the same position on the floor for the entire night and morning. He needs to move. 

With outstanding effort, Cas picks himself up, and flops onto the bed. The mattress is kind to him, and he rolls onto his side, curling up in a foetal position, gathering the covers close so that he can hug them against his chest. He's not really aware, but it's mere moments before he drifts off to sleep. 

* * *

 

He awakens to an incessant pounding on his door, and he sits up blearily, completely disoriented. For one wild moment he thinks it's Dean, come to lift his sorrows and carry him into the sunset, but then he remembers everything that happened, and the wave of despair floods over him once more. 

"God _dammit,_ Castiel I swear to God if you don't open this door right now, I'll assume you've flung yourself out your window in a fit of hysterical heartbreak. And trust me, after here my next stops are Alpha-jerk-face's favourite hangouts, and when I find him-"

Castiel's eyes widen, and he stumbles forwards off the bed, lurching towards the door and pulling it open. Gabriel is standing there, fist raised where he'd been pounding, a big bag of what appears to be candy under one arm. He takes in Castiel, and his mouth falls open a little.

"Jesus's fucking sandals." Gabriel says, looking Castiel up and down. "It's worse than I thought."

Castiel groans at him, and turns to head back into his room. He doesn't miss the sight of Becky though, her head poked around her door to spy on the commotion. She squeaks and ducks back inside her room when their eyes catch, and Castiel barely cares. He just wanders back over to his bed, getting back in the same position he was before. 

Gabriel follows him inside, looking around him. He mercifully shuts the door. "God, Cassy..."

For once, Castiel thinks, very mildly amused, Gabriel seems not to know what to say. His brother comes to sit on the bed beside him, placing the bag of candy on the floor. He shuffles around, taking his coat off and getting comfy, back against the wall, one hand resting on Cas's arm. 

"Alright," Gabriel sighs, and he sounds upset, "tell me what happened."

Castiel's lip trembles, but he decides that, fuck it, Gabriel might as well know everything. Then maybe he'll actually be able to help. Hopefully he won't be mean about it this time. After all, he can see how traumatised Cas is right now, plus one would hope that Gabriel took on board what he said on the morning after that Halloween party. 

Even the thought of that party brings tears to Cas's eyes. 

Cas tells him everything, from the moment Dean left after the tutoring session (he skips the sordid details of what the tutoring actually involved - not just because it would gross out Gabriel to a large extent, but also because he can't face thinking about it) to the moment he walked out of Cas's room. 

When he finishes, sniffling a little, Gabriel is silent for a while. Then he hears his brother's teeth grind.

"That  _asshole_." Gabriel spits, and he sounds livid. Castiel sits up in surprise at the venom in his brother's tone. "Does that moron _want_ to be beaten to a pulp?"

Castiel stares at his brother. Gabriel hardly ever gets angry, not really, and not like this. If Gabriel gets pissed off, he generally makes a joke out of things, says something incredibly witty and then slyly beetles off to target whoever got under his skin in a prank. Castle's barely ever seen him like this - only really when he and their father got into arguments back at home. And their Dad was around so little that the arguments were few and far between. 

"Gabriel, what are you talking about?"

Gabriel turns to Cas, that fury still bubbling on his face. He rests his hands on Cas's shoulders, gripping tightly. "You listen to me, little bro.  _Nobody_ gets to treat you like that, d'you understand?  _Nobody_ gets to hurt you, or touch you without your consent, or break your fucking heart in the most  _dickish_ way imaginable." Gabriel grits his teeth again, and Castiel is too shell-shocked to move. "Especially not six feet of meat-headed, macho-ignoramus  _moron._ And he damn well knew that screwing you over had consequences."

Gabriel leans away, muttering to himself angrily. Castiel sits quietly for a second, his eyes still wide, struggling to comprehend what Gabriel is saying. 

"What... what do you mean... he knew?" Castiel asks eventually, running Gabriel's words through his mind a few times, trying to work out if he understood correctly. 

Gabriel sighs, one hand coming up to run through his hair. "Nothing. Doesn't matter." Castiel latches on to this, realising Gabriel is keeping something from him. He pushes his brother in the shoulder, hard. "Ow!"

"Tell me." Castiel demands. 

Gabriel sighs again, his hands flailing as he tries to think of an excuse. He looks at Cas again, seeing the determination in his expression, and seems to relent. 

"Fine." Gabriel says, sounding reluctant. "Look I... I didn't want you to even find out about this, cause I knew you'd get all mad at me - which you did anyway may I just add - but basically..." Gabriel trails off for a moment, chewing his lip, his eyes boring sorrowfully into Cas's. He sighs again. "You remember the morning after the Halloween party? When Dean was yelling at me for the prank I may or may not have pulled?"

Castiel nods slowly, wondering where Gabe is going with this. 

"Yeah, and remember I... I said something to him, to Dean...?"

Castiel does remember, suddenly, and the scene replays in his mind - Gabriel and Dean in a who's-gonna-back-down-first war, their faces close, and Gabriel leaning in to whisper in Dean's ear. Immediately afterwards Dean had left as quickly as he could. 

"Yes," Castiel says, "what did you say?"

The curiosity is burning inside of him suddenly, and he wants to shake Gabriel to make him spit it out. What the Hell did Gabriel say to him? He can't believe he'd forgotten about it until now. 

Gabriel shifts a little, looking fidgety. "I said... well, he was going on about it not being 'respectful' to trash the Frat house or something... and he said y'know, typical Dean, 'don't ever do it again or you'll be sorry'. And I dunno, I got kinda mad, cause he was talking to me about abusing something that should be treated right, and I was sitting there thinking... well, is that what you're doing?"

Castiel's brow furrows, and he cocks his head slightly. "What?"

Gabriel's expression looks a little pained. "I said to him: 'Okay Dean-o, deal. I'll be respectful. But if you dare do anything to hurt or disrespect my pure, perfect little brother, you're going to live to regret it.'" 

Castle's mouth falls open slightly. " _What?!_ " 

"Look, Cassy, don't get mad, I was just-"

"Are you kidding me, Gabriel?! You basically told him to back the Hell off!" 

"What? No I didn't! I just got mad - there he was acting like he was the friggin' King of morality and lecturing me, but at the same time he's fucking you over Cas! He was being a dick! He was basically  _using_ you, manipulating your emotions and leaving you a complete mess every time he left. I know you probably couldn't see it from the inside, but I had to do  _something,_ Cassy, I couldn't just let him-"

To his credit, Gabriel breaks off the moment he realises Cas is crying. He swears under his breath and moves close, wrapping his arms around Cas protectively. 

"Shit, Cassy I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry. If you wanna blame me, that's fine, I get it, I'm so sorry." 

Castiel burrows into Gabriel's chest because he doesn't have anything else. He clutches his brother's shirt, shoulders shaking as he cries. To have it all spelled out for him, when it's still so raw, it's devastating. And he sees now, that Dean was just using him. That he never saw Cas as more than a fairly cute sex partner, that he knew about Cas's feelings and used them for his benefit, maybe even consciously encouraged them. That's why he was always so peculiarly nice and Cas didn't understand. 

Cas realises with a shocked, choked gasp that Dean's text just now... it wasn't a 'sorry I arrived drunk at your door' or anything like that. Dean was apologising for all of it, for every second he led Cas on, for every moment he used him. 

"Shh, Cassy." Gabriel is whispering, and Cas can feel a hand smoothing over his hair. "Please, stop crying. I didn't mean it, Cassy, I'm just so mad at him - he's not, he's not a bad guy."

Castiel sits up suddenly, Gabriel's hand falling away. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy he knows, but he stares at Gabriel anyway. "Stop defending him, Gabe. I understand now, I know. I don't blame you if that's what you're worrying about, none of this is your fault, it's  _him._ And mine, for being so fucking  _stupid._ "

"Cassy, no, that's not-"

"No, just stop, Gabe. It's so obvious now, Dean used me, just like you said. I can't believe I let myself get into this situation - do you know what I realised, Gabe? Literally just before he came over last night, I realised I'm in  _love_ with this guy. I let myself fall in fucking  _love_ with him!"

Gabriel stares at Cas for a while, completely dumbfounded, any words he was about to say, dying on his lips. 

"Dean doesn't... didn't even remotely care about me. I can see that now. I was just another trophy to him. Like all those fucking panties he pins to his noticeboard." Castiel grimaces at the thought, and so does Gabe. "I was the nerdy Freshman, maybe he hasn't had one before and he wanted to see if he could. I was just a bit of excitement for him, nothing more. He threw in the towel when I said I didn't want to anymore - anyone would."

Gabriel's expression grows pained, to the point where Cas almost feels sorry for  _him._ Cas feels a numbness spreading over him, as if his own body is anaesthetising itself against the searing pain of finding out the truth. 

"I'm sorry, Cassy." Gabriel says, and it looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn't, and Castiel can't be bothered to drag anything further out of him. "You deserve... you deserve the world, little bro."

Castiel tries to smile, but he doesn't manage it. He just looks at Gabriel for a while. "I think I... I think I'm going to go to sleep now, Gabriel. I'm very tired."

Gabriel swallows, and there's a glisten in his eyes. He nods slowly. "Okay. I brought you comfort candy. You eat as much as you want, okay? Candy helps everything."

Castiel sinks down back into his curled over position, his face blank, but he nods. He feels Gabriel slip off the bed, and then in his peripheral vision watches as his brother stands there hesitantly, probably wondering if its safe to leave him like this. 

"I'm fine, Gabe." Castiel near whispers. "I'm just gonna stay here."

"Alright, Cassy." Cas hears his brother moving about, blurrily sees legs walking across the room and back. "I put your phone on charge by your head here. Call me if you need anything."

"Yes, Gabe." Castiel says, his voice expressionless. "Thank you."

There's another long pause, and that same sense that Gabriel isn't saying something aloud. And then he's gone, the door clicking shut behind him. 

* * *

 

Castiel wakes up on Saturday and wishes he could stay unconscious. If he's asleep, apart from the flickers of dreams about Dean, the pain isn't all-consuming, and he gets moments of relief. But then, Dean does appear in his dreams, regularly in fact, and that's been the case for a good while now. He wanders in at various random moments, dazzling Castiel with his radiant smile, kissing him softly and gently - the way he never has - and sometimes, in Castiel's way-too-vivid and rather naughtier dreams, doing other things to him too. 

It's worse when he's awake though, because sometimes in the dreams he forgets that Dean is never going to do that again. Sometimes there is just a tinge of sadness on the edge of the dream, but dream-Castiel can never remember why, and he soon ignores it. 

In consciousness however, this is impossible. There are barely moments when he's not thinking of Dean, and he can't distract himself no matter how hard he tries. It's unsurprising really, because even before he could never switch off his mind's Dean-tap, it was always ever-flowing. Why would that have changed now? If anything, Cas thinks it may have gotten worse. 

He surfaces from his bed eventually, his rumbling stomach and full bladder forcing him to emerge from his cover-cocoon. He steps in the shower, not realising it's cold for a good three minutes and he's shivering. He's really out of it. He pees, brushes his teeth, and rummages through his drawers for items of clothing. He pulls on sweatpants and a t-shirt, and upon finding it's too cold, he searches for a sweater. He gets so desperate that he crouches down to paw through the fallen items of clothing heaped at the bottom of his wardrobe. Of course, he finds the Psi Delta Alpha hoodie, the one he stole from Dean that first time he was in his room. 

He barely even listens to his mind arguing with him, and he pulls it on, lip quivering as the familiar smell engulfs him. He doesn't really know what happens to the rest of his day. He makes seemingly endless cups of tea and coffee. He tries to have a conversation with Becky in the kitchen, but she escapes from him quickly, probably sensing he's not in his right mind. He eats junk food - crisps and the sweets Gabriel bought him, along with a microwaveable pizza he'd forgotten he had. 

He sits at his computer intending to work, but he finds himself scrolling through various websites instead, his glazed eyes scanning over Buzzfeed lists and videos of funny cats until he realises they're not going to work - none of it is going to make him smile. 

Darkness falls at some point, and Castiel moves with his laptop to the bed, reading some stupid horror story on CreepyPasta - a ridiculous name for a website, Cas thinks - and feeling nothing whatsoever. He checks his phone absently every so often, not even really hoping for another text, but just in case. After an unknown amount of time passes, Castiel is checking his phone yet again, and notices that it's 2am. 

He blinks, disbelieving, and thinks he should definitely go to bed now. He's not even tired though, and he pauses, reasoning that nobody is going to know if he doesn't get much sleep tonight. He might as well attempt to distract himself with the internet - it's probably better than lying awake in the darkness, waiting for the avalanche of Dean-thoughts to cascade down on him. 

He turns back to his laptop, shrugging, and continues to scroll. It's then that he hears a knock on his door. He jerks his head up, a little afraid. Who the Hell would that be at 2am? He puts his laptop aside cautiously, and the knock sounds again, louder, making him jump. He'd better answer, his flatmates won't be pleased if they're awoken at this time for no good reason. 

Trepidatious, he crosses to the door, listening quietly for any sounds on the other side. Campus security is lax at best he knows, so this could really be anyone, he thinks, heart pounding. The knock sounds again, longer and louder, and Castiel, with the wild thought running through him that he has nothing left to lose, hurls open the door. 

Gabriel is standing there, if you could call it standing. He's clearly drunk, Cas can immediately tell. 

"Cassy," Gabriel says urgently upon sight, and he grabs at his brother, catching hold of both of his wrists, "I ha'to tell yer."

Castiel rolls his eyes at his brother, feeling his heart rate slow significantly. Slightly annoyed, he drags Gabriel into the room, pushing him down to sit on the bed and closing the door. 

"This better be good, Gabe." Castiel sighs, and he sits back where he was before, leaned against his pillows, waiting. "What do you want?"

"Cassy, Cassy..." Gabriel begins, and hiccups loudly. "I was out... with th'brothers."

"You don't say." Castiel says, bored. He supposes he deserves this - he was a mess all over Gabriel yesterday, it's only fair that it's Gabriel's turn to be the mess now. 

"Yeah, and I was with'em. An'they were talking." Gabriel continues. Castiel raises an eyebrow. "'Bout  _Dean._ "

Castiel has to admit, his interest is peaked. But he remains stone-faced, because he knows he shouldn't hear this. He's trying to move past this, damn it. This isn't helping anything. 

"Gabe, you're drunk. I'm going to get you a glass of water, and when I come back you're going to bed." Castiel says firmly, standing up. Gabriel reaches for him, trying to pull him back. 

"No, wait! Cassy,  _listen!_ "

"I don't wanna hear this, Gabe. Don't you get it? I'm trying my hardest to forget about him."

Cas walks to the door, ignoring his brother's urgent calling. He slips out into the hallway, breathing hard. At least he knows that there's no way Gabriel will be able to find his way to the kitchen in the dark when he's this drunk. 

Cas meanders slowly, lingering in the kitchen for a while, just staring out of the window. He takes his time with getting the water, washing up a new glass, drying it carefully, and using cold water from the jug in the fridge. 

He walks back to his room, sighing, hoping Gabriel might have just drifted off to sleep on his bed. No such luck. 

When Castiel walks in, his brother is upright and alert, even if he looks as though he's fighting to keep his eyes wide. Castiel sighs again, handing him the glass of water. 

"Thanks." Gabriel says, and drinks a lot of it, to his credit. "Please, Cassy - I know'm drunk. Just listen, please? I promise it's worth't."

Castiel looks heavenward and resigns himself. Clearly there's no way to get out of it - even if he says no Gabriel won't stop trying. He gestures with his hands for Gabriel to continue. 

"Okay," Gabriel says once he's got the go-ahead, he spills some water in his excitement, and it does nothing to restore Cas's faith in him, "they were talking 'bout Dean, right, an'it's mostly Luke and Gordon, n'they were going on and on about how they had news about Dean-o." Castiel just looks on wearily, just about understanding Gabe through his slurs. "They were sayin' y'know, s'weird how he's so diff'rent recently, n'how he never has any  _girls_ around anymore."

Castiel rolls his eyes. "For Christ's sake Gabriel, you think I'm an idiot? You don't have to make up this crap just to save my feelings, I know Dean was more than likely sleeping with other-"

"N-shut up." Gabriel says, holding a finger in the air to silence him. Castiel rolls his eyes again. "Don't'cha get it, Cassy? _He wasn't._ I thought he was, but I was wrong! He stopped doin'it. All through when he was seein' you!"

Castiel shakes his head slowly, completely disbelieving. It's such bullshit. Why on earth would he?

"Anyway, tha's not what I wanna say." 

"Oh, really there's more?" Cas asks, hoping his sarcasm reaches Gabriel through his drunken haze. 

"Uh huh. So Luke and Gordon, they were talkin'bout some... some game? That y'played on Halloween?" Castiel's cheeks heat a bit, wondering if Gabriel is referring to what he thinks he is. "Incithentally, why wasn't I invited, hm? Anyway. Some truth or dare nonsense. An'you and Dean were like... like all over each other, right? Tha's what Luke said. He said... and correct me if'm wrong, that Dean was dared t'kiss th'hottest person there, an'he kissed you!" 

Gabriel laughs, his arm reaching out to pat Cas on the shoulder. Castiel looks uncomfortable, and he tries to stop the memory of Dean kissing him in its tracks, but it hits him full force. He feels the sadness flooding his expression, and Gabriel's laughter dies away. "Yes," Castiel confirms, his voice a whisper, "that's true."

"Sorry, Cassy, I don'wanna upset you. But listen, kay? So they were sayin' how weird Dean got in th'game, how he said he likes guys - an'I would've bet money that he'd die before doin' that honestly - an'that he got so angry when Meg dared you t'kiss her that he ended th'game and threw ev'ryone out!" Cas just nods, hoping Gabriel gets to the point soon. "Well Jesus, Cassy, don'you think tha's a li'l weird?"

Castiel sighs, eyes glazing over. "He was just jealous Gabe. Like you said, he doesn't like his pride hurt or his masculinity threatened. I did both those things, and he was already jealous. Meg just tipped him over the edge."

Gabriel stares at him like he's insane. "Where d'you think jealousy  _comes_ from Cassy? From feelings of affection, you jackass!" Gabriel winces at his own words. "Sorry Cassy, didn't mean to call you names. I've been around too many burly men."

"Affection or possession." Castiel corrects. "I was Dean's property, he just didn't want someone to take away what was his."

Gabriel looks heavenward this time. "Oh for Christ's - okay, forget that for a second. Gordon an'Luke said more stuff. They said it got so weird with Dean that they confronted him'bout it. They found him later on th'day after Halloween, and they basically said like, 'what's up with you, dawg?'. An'get this! Dean jus'spewed out frickin' everything!" Gabriel is grinning now, and Cas's brow creases, not understanding. "He yelled at them, sayin' it was his business, and that you were like this unexpected thing that happened to him, and it's driving him nutty and he thinks he really likes you. He told them that if any of them had a problem with it they could go fuck themselves basically, and also that if they dared touch you he'd kick their ass."

Castiel feels hot, stinging tears pricking his eyes. "You're lying."

"Swear to fuckin' Jesus Cassy, I'm not." Castiel stares long and hard at his brother, looking for telltale signs of deceit in his eyes. He can't tell through the drunken haze. "They said they were all super weirded out, obviously, but they did kinda suspect he liked you a bit cause of what happened in that game. He didn't even try to play it off as a joke after, Cassy don't you see? This is  _Dean Winchester_ we're talking about, and he admitted he has feelings for you, a guy, a  _Freshman_ guy to his two incredibly masculine, burly-ass best friends."

Castiel doesn't know what to say. He looks away from Gabriel, thinking hard. It can't be true. He'd worked it all out, he'd understood finally. Now it makes no sense again, now Dean is just as big of a mystery as he always was. 

"If that were true," Castiel says, his voice quiet, "then it makes no sense. Why would he come here like that - drunk and willing to- to hurt me? Why wouldn't he try and contact me again after? If he felt anything, even remorse - he'd be here right now. Not you."

Gabriel looks at his brother sadly. "I know, Cassy, it's- it's awful what he did. But..." Gabriel sighs, and runs a hand through his hair again, just like he did before. "Okay, so there's something I need to tell you. About Dean. And he's gonna kill me if he ever finds out I did, but then I'll kill him right back for what he did to you."

Castiel notices that Gabriel is no longer slurring his words. He seems to have sobered up somewhat, which is a good sign. Gabriel needs to tell him something about Dean? What the Hell would that be? 

"What is it?" Castiel asks hesitantly. 

Gabriel presses his lips together. "Okay," he sighs, "so Dean is... well, you know I think he's a douchenozzle, but well, some may argue that... he has a good side. Or at the very least, an excuse for being how he is."

"How he is? What do you mean?" Castiel asks.

"Oh, you know," Gabriel flaps his hands in the air, gesturing vaguely, "a misogynistic, womanising, bordering on alcoholic psycho with a rage problem." 

Castiel blinks at Gabriel, surprised. "Never one for sugar-coating really, were you Gabe?"

"Which is ironic, considering my perchance for candy." Gabriel agrees, smiling. "But anyway, so... Dean has this like... I guess you could call it a secret? It's nothing weird, not really, it's just usually very bad if you find out and he wasn't the one to directly tell you."

Castiel is on tenterhooks now - this could be the answer to everything he wants to know about Dean, the key to Dean's unsolved mysteries. "What is it?"

Gabriel takes a deep breath, as though resigning himself to any consequences. "His Dad's an alcoholic."

Castiel blinks, and Gabriel blinks back. Castiel realises his brother is waiting for a reaction. "That's it?" Castiel asks, disbelieving. "That's the secret? That makes no sense at all! Our Dad was never even around and we turned out okay-"

"No, no, shhh." Gabriel interrupts. "It has repercussions. So, his Dad's an alcoholic, and has been ever since he was little and his Mom died in a fire."

This time Castiel gasps. "Oh my God. That's so awful."

"Yeah." Gabriel agrees, nodding. "Dean was five, and he has this little brother who was just a baby - Sam. If I remember right, the fire started in Sam's room, and Dean's mom ran in there to try and put it out, but was trapped there by the flames pretty quickly. I don't know where their Dad was, maybe asleep? Anyway, so Dean runs in and sees everything, and his mom tells him to grab Sam and run out of the house, which he does. And then he realises that his mom was telling him to save himself and his brother, but that she was gonna die." 

"Oh my god." Castiel says, and he can't even comprehend it. He's never heard anything so tragic, so completely terrible. It's a wonder Dean wasn't scarred for life. "I had no idea... I-"

"I know, awful." Gabriel agrees again, and he's speaking fast now, as if afraid someone will hear him and report to Dean. "So then John - that's the Dad - goes kinda nutty and convinces himself that it was his fault, or that it was Dean's fault, and sometimes he'd get convinced something else did it, some kind of, I dunno,  _demon_ or something."

"What?" Castiel asks, unable to believe someone could project something like that onto a five year old boy. 

"Yeah, I know. Nutty as it gets. And John basically turns into an alcoholic. Dean doesn't have any other family, like at all. So he ends up taking care of Sam, raising him, feeding him, dressing him, taking him to school and picking him up - literally everything. All while John drinks himself stupid, yelling and hitting Dean every five minutes, blaming him for killing his wife."

Castiel buries his face in his hands. "Jesus. What then?"

"Well, eventually Dean wanted out, y'know?" Gabriel says, and Castiel nods, following. "He decided to apply for college, but cause he had to skip out on his lessons all the time to look after Sam, the only thing he could get in for was football. He got a scholarship - I don't know if you've seen him play but he's damn good - and he came here, but John was so angry with him for leaving. And Dean is constantly worried about Sam. He's nearly always thinking about Sam, always on the phone to him, and every time he skips a lesson it's cause he's driving back to Kansas to make sure he's okay. It's necessary too, John is such a nutcase he'd probably start abusing Sam too if Dean wasn't around."

Castiel is silent for a good long while. He doesn't know what to say. How could he have been so oblivious to this? "How... how do you know all this?"

Gabriel grimaces. "Last year, Dean invited a bunch of us to his hometown cause he said the bars were awesome, he basically had a free house, and he wanted us to meet Sam. It became pretty awkward pretty quickly when John started yelling at Dean the whole time, threatening to knock his teeth out, and Dean basically told us everything."

Castiel nods. "Why did he want you to meet Sam?"

"Oh, Sam's pledging the Fraternity next year. He'll be of age then, so... yeah." Gabriel smiles a little, and Castiel's not sure why. "Dean's making sure he'll get a place obviously, but he's very protective of Sammy, told us that if any of us hurt him while he was a Pledge or after, we'd never walk again." 

"So then he'll be safe." Castiel says, nodding in understanding. "God, Gabriel... I had no idea about this stuff."

"Yeah," says Gabe, rubbing the back of his neck, "it makes you look at him a little differently, huh. I'd bet that the reason he's so into all that..." Gabriel raises his eyebrows at Cas suggestively. " _Stuff_ you guys do in the bedroom is a lot down to how he was treated as a kid."

Castiel shakes his head, disagreeing. "No, I don't think so. Well, maybe to an extent. But it's different. Dean would never hurt me." He realises with regret that Dean already has. "Well, not while he's... in his right mind." Something hits Cas suddenly, and a light switches on in his mind. "Oh! So Dean went down to Kansas to stay with Sam and his Dad, and the day he got back... that's when he came to see me?" 

Gabriel shrugs. "I'd bet anything that's where he was. I'd say probably John was pretty damn awful to him that day, so he came back here, got drunk and came to see the person he thought could make him feel better. Which is you."

Castiel groans, curling into a ball. How could he have sent Dean away? Knowing that, it seems like the cruellest thing he could have done. Not that he did it intentionally, he supposes... but still. 

"God. Gabe, how do I fix this?" Castiel asks, his voice muffled because his mouth is pressed to his knees. 

Gabriel shuffles forwards, wrapping an arm around his brother awkwardly. "Cassy, this is the other thing you gotta know about Dean." Castle's mind is running a mile a minute, but listens attentively nonetheless. "When he loves, he loves hard. Like with Sam. Although, okay... that's a little different to how it is with you. At least I damn well hope so."

Castiel raises his head and gives his brother a look.

"Sorry, getting off track." Gabriel says, continuing. "He loves with his whole being, seriously, he's like a damn golden retriever. But he's got so many walls up, Cassy. All those defences, put in place to keep his Dad from hurting him too deep, they're heavy and strong and it's not gonna be easy to knock 'em down. There's pride and self-deprecation and issues with his sexuality I'm guessing... he  _undoubtedly_ kept things between you as purely physical because he didn't wanna let himself be vulnerable with you. Because you'd be the first person he's done that with." 

Weirdly, it seems to make sense. Though Gabriel has a way of making anything seem sensible at the time. But might that be why Dean never let Cas kiss him on the lips? Although, Cas thinks... and something suddenly dawns on him, making him gasp. He tucks the epiphany away for later.

"So what do I do?" Castiel asks, and Gabriel smiles softly. 

"Listen, you're much,  _much_ more normal than Dean-o. He's probably in a similar state to you I'd imagine." Gabriel says wisely. "But if you think that bundle of idiot is going to make the first move in trying to win you back, you're sorely mistaken. He's probably way too embarrassed. And he'll be blaming it all on himself. You've gotta go and tell him everything, Cassy."

Castiel considers this, heart fluttering at the very idea. What would he even say?! A question pops into his mind, rocking his faith in Gabriel just slightly. 

"Gabe, why are you such a Dean expert all of a sudden? How do you know all this stuff?" Castiel asks, and the more he thinks about it, the more absurd it seems. "About... him having defences, and me being the first person he's ever... felt anything for or whatever? How could you know that?" 

Gabriel shifts uneasily, and Castiel tries to ready himself for Gabriel's admission that he was making it all up, that he doesn't really know, he's just guessing, trying to make Cas feel better. 

"Well, me and Sam... we- we sort of talk. Like, a lot."

Castiel stares at his brother. "What?  _Sam_? As in, Dean's little brother?"

Gabriel avoids Cas's eyes. "Yeah. He's a cool guy. You'll meet him next year. I got talking to him when I went up there to visit with Dean and... I dunno. We just talk now and again."

"...On the phone?"

"Yeah." Gabriel confirms. "And, I dunno, Skype sometimes. Texting. He's written me a couple of letters. He's kinda nerdy." Gabriel laughs fondly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Castiel decides to just leave this weird-ass conversation the Hell alone for now. He'll come back to it later. Right now he has too much to deal with. 

"Right. And you discuss Dean?" Castiel asks, just to confirm.

"Oh, yeah. Well, sometimes." Gabriel explains. "I mean, Sam tells me stuff about him, useful stuff y'know. It started out by me asking for embarrassing information to use in pranks, and Sam assisted happily - what a doll, am I right? - but he just kept talking. I know a lot of stuff about that guy."

"I see. Do you discuss me?"

"Um," Gabriel laughs a little awkwardly, "yeah. I've... kinda been updating Sam on you guys and your... situation. The kid's so bored, and he's offered all kinds of advice. He's got it in his head that you're the best thing that could've happened to Dean." 

Castiel can't even find it in himself to be mad at Gabriel for telling someone he's never met all about his and Dean's relationship. He's got too much filling his brain. He needs a good while to process everything Gabriel has told him. 

"Look," Gabriel says, as though he's sensing hesitation, "if you don't believe me about any of this stuff, think about the facts. Dean is always with you, always finding you, always happy to see you. I don't know what he's like when you're alone together obviously, but I'd bet money that he's not a major prick to you, is that right?" Castiel shrugs, but nods slightly. "Right! And he _is_ a major prick to most people Cassy, d'you get that? And aside from that - he stopped sleeping around! He's _notorious_ for that shit, Cassy - you've seen his panty collection. And he just flat out stopped, because _as he confessed,_ he's head over heels for _you_."

Castiel listens in wonder, eyes wide with the craziness of what Gabriel is telling him. Could that... be true? It's impossible, improbable, so ridiculously unlikely. What does Castiel have that Dean could lose his mind like that over? 

"So..." Gabriel says after a minute of silence. "What are you gonna do now?"

Castiel sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "Right now, I'm going to bed. You can sleep here too if you want. And in the morning," Castiel hesitates, smiling a little for the first time in what feels like a long time, "I'm gonna tell Dean I love him."

Cas hardly cares that Gabriel's loud, obnoxious cheers probably wake up his whole flat. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two more chapters to go! Apologies for any feels caused. 
> 
> xxxx


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College cliché's and fanfic tropes. 
> 
> All of the angst peppered with Gabriel (hopefully to lighten the mood a bit).
> 
> Castiel is determined to let Dean know how he feels. So how's that gonna go down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so late! We're nearly there though! 
> 
> One more to go and it's a GOOD ONE. 
> 
> Love you all xxx

Cas wakes up the following morning with a fragile flame of hope flickering in his belly. It doesn't drown out the engulfing sadness that is still weighing down on him after everything that's happened, but it's better than yesterday at least. He's not completely numb anymore, now he can feel the barest hint of warmth.

He kicks his brother, who has slumped facedown on the bed, his head near Cas's waist - when did they even fall asleep last night? Cas wonders - but Gabriel doesn't move aside from letting out a groan. Cas smiles a little, kicking him once more for good measure.

"I'll nutcracker you." Gabriel says into the duvet, his voice muffled.

Cas's foot retreats hastily. He has no desire to play the sadistic, torturous game Gabriel made up when they were younger ever again. He decides to just leave Gabriel here, he can leave when he is finally able to stand again, the door locks on its own after all. So Cas gets up, blushing when he realises Gabriel has been talking to him all night whilst he's been wearing Dean's Psi Delta Alpha hoodie, and steadfastly doesn't allow himself to think about what he's going to say to Dean when he finds him.

Where should he even start with that monumental task?

* * *

 Four hours later and Castiel is about to give up. He's crisscrossed the campus so many times he's lost count, been everywhere he could think of to look for Dean. He checks his phone for the zillionth time, cringing at the text he sent as soon as he left his room because now that it's been so long and there still is no reply, it seems stupid somehow.

 **Castiel Novak**  
Dean, where are you?  
I need to talk to you.

He's not going to ring him though, that's where he draws the line. Dean obviously doesn't want to reply to him, so he's not going to humiliate himself further by having his call rejected. Castiel's ego is on the brink of shattering completely, so he has to keep telling himself that Dean is only avoiding him because - as Gabriel said - he's embarrassed by his own actions, and he probably thinks he's screwed everything up.

He pushes people away instead of trying to repair things because he thinks he's protecting himself from getting hurt. But if what Gabriel was saying is really true, Dean's hurting himself way more than necessary right now.

Cas went to the Frat House first, obviously. He rang the doorbell, feeling like a fool, and it was opened by Luke Milton, the blonde, sharply faced senior that's supposedly one of Dean's closest friends. He was the one sitting beside Cas when Dean kissed him, Cas remembers, wilting a little at the thought.

He was given a lot of knowing glances as he asked where Dean was, and consequently remembered that Luke was one of the people Gabriel was saying told him about Dean's... fondness for him. Nevertheless, Luke swore blind he hadn't seen Dean, and Castiel thought maybe he was lying, but Luke even invited him in to check. He didn't go. He didn't want to stand in Dean's room, alone and feel himself fill to the brim with memories.

His next stop was the Roadhouse, but they were just opening for lunch and Jo told him she hadn't seen him since that time they came in together. Castiel remembered while talking to her how much he liked it in there, it's so homely and warm. He saw Ellen this time, the feisty owner lady that Dean was talking about before, and he had to promise her that he'd come back. She also swore that if he found Dean, she gave him full permission to 'kick his butt' for not being in to see her for so long.

Next he tried the sports field, but though teams were practicing, people were few and far between. It is a Sunday after all. The football team weren't in their usual spot, so Cas left, feeling disheartened.

Cas tried every bar around campus, every coffee shop, every store - he even went to the school car park because he remembered Gabriel saying that Dean drove to Kansas every time he disappeared. But it was hopeless, he had no idea what kind of car Dean drives, so all he could do was scan for a familiar face in any of the windscreens.

Eventually, he has ended up here, in his favourite coffee shop on campus, the one he comes to every Tuesday and Thursday before running off to watch for Dean as he comes out of class. He nurses a black coffee, feeling exhausted and hopeless, the flame inside him threatening to extinguish any second. He wishes he'd managed to drag Gabriel out of bed to search with him, it would have probably kept his spirits up at least.

He realises with dismay that he forgot to tell Gabriel that he's not angry with him anymore, that he's forgiven him. But hey, Cas thinks, they're brothers - Gabriel surely knows that.

He's halfway through his coffee when he feels someone approach him from the side, pulling the chair out without hesitation. His heart jumps into his throat at the very possibility it might be- But it's Meg.

"Hey cutie." She says, and Castiel tries hard not to roll his eyes. He succeeds, just. "You're looking a little glum."

He sighs at her, taking in her heavily mascara'd eyes, her dark wavy hair, her thin, dark red lips. She's gone for a look that suits her personality today, Cas thinks, noticing her 'bad-girl' black leather jacket and thick pendant. She looks like she could rip your throat out now, and it's less jarring than it usually is.

"Yeah, well." Castiel says wearily, his fingers circling the rim of his paper cup. "Why should I be happy?"

Meg raises her eyebrows at his response and barks a laugh at him. "Wow, you sure are the Sunshine Kid today!" She laughs again, annoyingly patting him on the back a few times. "C'mon cutie, it's not that bad. You've got tons going for you. You're smart - though not as smart as me - you're pretty - though again, I trump you there I'm afraid - and I happen to know you're capable of bagging yourself an extremely hot piece of ass when you want it." Castiel freezes, tensing slightly. Oh no, she's not going to start talking about- "I mean," Meg continues, barely taking a breath, "I haven't seen you since Halloween but I've been meaning to say nice catch Clarence. Dean friggin' Winchester! I mean, it's true right? What everyone's saying?"

Castiel can't quite believe this is happening. He tries to close off his ears, playing memorised Smiths tunes in his mind and turning up the volume. Maybe if he just doesn't say anything she'll go away? What's her deal anyway? Why is she even talking to him? This is quite literally the last conversation he needs right now.

When Castiel doesn't respond, Meg decides just to plough on. "It's gotta be. I heard it from one of the Psi Delta Alpha boys. I was a little - okay, a lot - miffed when you refused to kiss me in truth or dare the other day but now... well, Clarence buddy, I get it. Dean is smoking hot, and that kiss you guys had? I'm actually a little annoyed at myself for not figuring it out sooner just from that. He got so jealous didn't he!"

Castiel groans, willing her to shut up. "Meg?" She pauses, looking annoyed that she's been interrupted mid-ramble. "Please stop talking."

Meg stares at him for a minute, then grins. It's more than a little terrifying, Cas looks down into the brown abyss of his cup. "Well, someone's defensive about his new man-candy." She says, nudging him irritatingly. "You're gonna have to deal with it Clarence, I'm not gonna stop staring at your boyfriend just cause you've claimed him before I could. I mean, you of all people understand - he's delicious. Those biceps, that firm little ass... I could have him for breakfast."

There's nothing for it, Castiel thinks, he's just going to have to let her think what she thinks, say what she says, and then hopefully, once it's all off her chest, she'll just leave. He is slightly concerned at the 'what everyone's been saying' comment though. Just how many people have Luke and Gordon told about Dean's apparent admission that he likes Cas? Or maybe Gabriel was the one who spewed? It could even be that Lisa girl, Castiel thinks wonderingly, remembering how jealous she looked after Dean kissed him and not her.

After a while, Cas zones back in on what Meg is saying, finding that she's still rambling on about how hot Dean is. Yeah, Castiel thinks wryly, I think I got the memo on that one. In fact, he might be an expert in that particular area.

"...and oh my God, I'm so jealous that you get to see him when he's all sweaty and fresh from his training, ugh." Meg says, as Castiel thinks that not once has Dean come to see him straight after football practice. "I just can't get enough of watching him play, it's like a weird turn-on for me. All the senior jocks are actually... pretty much. But Dean is way up there on my list. I'm so disappointed I can't go tonight... he'll be all glistening and... breathing hard..." Meg seems to lose herself in the mental picture she's created and Castiel lets her.

He savours the fact that this irritating girl will never actually know what it's like to be with Dean for real - Dean clearly doesn't like her. Though, Castiel regretfully admits to himself, he might never know it again either. And who is he to say who Dean will sleep with in the future for that matter? He might decide that her panties would look really good on his wall.

Suddenly, Castiel replays something that Meg just said, and sits up straight. "Wait, what did you say?"

Meg breaks off from a detailed description of what she imagines Dean's thighs would look like under his shorts, and stares at him, impatient and confused. "What?"

"You said... you can't watch him play... tonight?"

Meg nods at him sarcastically, as though he's an idiot. "Uh, yeah brainiac - the game tonight? We're playing against Princeton." Meg side-eyes him then. "Hold on a minute... why aren't you going? And why didn't you know that? Hey, where are you- Castiel!"

But Castiel has already stood up from his chair and is leaving hastily. He strides across the café, sending chairs squeaking across the floor as he goes. He flings the door open and rushes outside into the harsh, cold November wind. Dean is playing a game tonight! That's where he'll have been all day, practicing at the stadium, getting ready.

He's halfway to the stadium when he realises how early he is. Dean might be anywhere, he might be in a meeting with their coach, or having a pre-game drink at one of the bars - it's best to wait until he knows for sure he will see Dean, and that's right before the game, or maybe even after. Plus, he thinks, shivering, if he's going to attend a football game in this weather, he needs to wrap up.

Hey, maybe Gabriel will still be in his room! Then they can go together, and he'll have some moral support. Castiel almost turns to head back to his room, but just before, he sees the outline of the stadium in the distance. It's large and daunting, and a shudder runs through Castiel to think that Dean is inside it right now (probably).

Everything seems that much scarier somehow, now that it's this close.

* * *

 

Gabriel is still asleep in Castiel's room when he returns, but waking him and convincing him to come to the game takes more time than Castiel anticipated. After nursing Gabriel back to life with copious amounts of very sugary coffee, aspirin, a shower and warm clothes, Cas eventually manages to bundle a grumpy, well-padded elder brother out of the door.

He is very aware however that they are now quite late to the game. He'd looked up the start time on the college website, finding that it starts at 18:00.

It's now 18:45.

Castiel links arms with Gabriel and tries to walk briskly whilst half-dragging him towards the stadium. His brother is being irritatingly uncooperative.

"Cassy, it's cold!" Gabriel whines, but Cas ignores him. "I don't see why I couldn't have just stayed in bed."

Castiel grits his teeth. "Gabe, you said you'd help me with getting Dean back. This is you helping." Castiel continues dragging - they're not far now, Cas can hear the vague cheering.

"I can give you moral support over the phone!"

"Stop whining. You owe me anyway."

"For what?!"

"I can think of literally hundreds of things that you have done to me since I was born that warrant an 'I-Owe-You'," Castiel says, annoyed, "but for now let's just say covering me in body glitter and eyeliner, then convincing me to make out with Balthazar in front of the boy I'm in love with."

Gabriel mumbles a vague response that sounds very much like he's succumbing. "Good." Castiel says, and pulls harder on Gabriel's sleeve. "Now come on, we're nearly there."

* * *

 

Things are in full swing when they arrive, and Castiel is more than a little surprised at the turnout of this thing, especially considering the weather. The stadium is packed with people, all wearing the college colours and waving flags to support their team.

"I didn't know people were so patriotic about their college sports teams." Castiel comments, and Gabriel mumbles, nodding.

"People are idiots, Cassy." He sighs. "Bunch of blind, dumb sheep following each other into stupidity."

Castiel turns to look at his brother as they approach the staircase leading to one side of the seating. "Wow, cheery today."

Gabriel looks pissed off for a minute, then sighs again. "Yeah, sorry. I'm being a dick. I think I need some candy."

Castiel laughs. "When don't you?"

They climb high into the stalls, finding a couple of spare seats where they can, about halfway up - Cas makes sure he's on the aisle. He wants to be able to have a quick exit as soon as he sees Dean leave the field.

He scans for Dean as soon as they're both sat down, but it's difficult. All the players are moving so fast, and their uniforms are identical - Cas has trouble picking any single face out of the mass. "Can you see him?" Castiel asks Gabe, craning his neck.

Gabriel leans forward too, scanning the players. "Uh, is that him? With the red shorts?"

Castiel turns to his brother, unamused. "They're all wearing red shorts, Gabe."

"Not those guys." Gabriel points out, jabbing a finger.

"That's the other team."

"Oh." Gabriel leans back, uncaring. Castiel looks at him, amazed. "Gimme a break!" Gabe yelps. "I'm hungover, I can barely see anything."

And with that, his brother sinks down in his seat, his head disappearing into the scarf, hat and duffel coat combo he's wearing, and leans back further, his head flopping back against the seat a little. He closes his eyes, and Castiel sighs, exasperated. It looks like he's on his own then. If only the players would stop moving about for a second, Castiel thinks, irritated.

And then he spots him. As clear as day, Castiel would know that figure anywhere - from the pastel pink of his intricately bowed lips, to the very fluidity of his movements as he sprints across the chartreuse grass. It's undoubtedly Dean, helmet and shoulder pads or not.

He stares unashamedly as Dean pumps his legs across the field, arms raised high, deftly catching the ball as it's thrown to him and sprinting full-force away from the defence. Cas can immediately see that Dean is in his element here. He looks as though he belongs on this field, like he blends into the very atmosphere. The crowd are cheering him wildly, waving flags and banners, and Castiel feels a peculiar surge of something like pride welling up within him.

Dean has certainly found his calling in life. It's a beautiful thing to see.

Suddenly, Castiel's view is blocked, and he looks up in frustration to see what it is shielding Dean from his view. A youngish guy in a pinstripe uniform is ascending the stairs slowly, a sort of basket strapped to his front that seems to hold long beige sausages of star-shaped dough.

"Churros! Get your fresh, hot churros folks!" The man cries loudly, and several men to his right wave fistfuls of cash in the air, signalling their desire for the snack.

All at once, Castiel feels Gabriel shoot forwards in his seat, knocking Castiel slightly as he does so. When Castiel turns to look at his brother, slightly disgruntled, he sees a wild, hungry look in his eye. Gabriel's hand shoots out, grabbing Cas's sleeve and squeezing tightly, his eyes fixed on the red and white striped man.

"Churros, Cassy." Gabriel breathes in wonder. "I need one. Get me a churro, Cassy. It'll save me."

Castiel rolls his eyes. "Oh for Heaven's- Gabe, didn't you bring any money with you?"

Gabriel shakes his head slowly, his gaze still firmly fixated on the churro man. "C'mon Cassy please? You're not gonna let me starve are you?!"

Shaking his head in disbelief, Cas reaches reluctantly into his jeans pocket, pulling out a crumpled five dollar bill. "Uh," he begins tentatively, attempting to raise his voice so that the churro man will hear, "excuse me?! Sir! Mister um, mister churro man? Can we get one churro over here please?"

Somehow, even above the cheering, the pinstriped fellow hears Cas's cries, and reaches into his basket, pulling out a long sugar speckled churro and tossing it through the air. Gabriel catches it deftly - why couldn't he have moved that fast when they were on their way here, Cas thinks, annoyed, but reaches forward to press the note into the guys hand. He gets three dollars in return and sighs. Two dollars for a churro? That's ridiculous! Gabriel had better be damn grateful.

"There you go, you pesky-" Castiel turns back towards his brother only to see that he has demolished the entire thing, and is now studiously licking sugar granules from his fingers. Castiel's mouth falls open a little - he must say, he's slightly impressed.

At that moment, a whistle blows, and Cas looks up, surprised, only to see that the players have stopped darting about in their formations. Everyone is filing off the field, the two teams heading in different directions, disappearing into small archways leading into the depths of the stadium. Castiel can't tell which one is Dean anymore.

He looks up at the scoreboard - the game is not finished yet. Castiel has been researching the rules of football online whilst Gabriel groaned at him back in his room, he knows now that the average football game lasts three hours and twelve minutes. So what's going on?

"Gabriel," Castiel says urgently, nudging his brother and pointing at the field, "something's wrong - why are all the players leaving? The game can't be finished."

Gabriel looks wearily down at where his brother is pointing and rolls his eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be the smart one? Jeez Cassy, it's half time. Don't you know that most of a football game is breaks? Good ol' America, can't work too hard for too long, amiright?"

Castiel barely listens to what Gabriel is rambling on about, instead he turns and shakes him. "How long is halftime?"

Gabriel seems to think for a moment. "Twelve minutes I think. Unless they say otherwise-"

 _"Due to an injury sustained by the opposing team, we will be allowing thirty minutes for halftime. Please return to your seats in thirty minutes."_ An announcement over the speaker system rings out, lifting Cas's spirits.

"Oh my God, it's a sign!" Castiel cries, grabbing Gabriel's shoulder.

"Yeah... okay Cassy." Gabriel agrees, sounding way beyond sceptical.

"I've gotta go find him, Gabe. Are you gonna be alright here?"

Gabriel rolls his eyes. "That depends, are you gonna require me to actually be here when you return?"

Castiel swats at him. "Yes! Brotherly support you jackass. Now stay put, I'll be back after I've..." Castiel gulps as he stands, the enormity of what he's about to do finally dawning on him. "Um, you know." He turns to go, knees wobbling slightly, and Gabriel catches his arm.

He turns to his brother, expression petrified. "He's a lucky fucker, Cassy. Go get him." Gabriel says, and then pretends to become distracted by the sight of the churro man wandering up the other aisle. He calls out loudly, demanding more sugary dough, and Castiel smiles, making his escape. He jogs down the steps, dodging red-cheeked football fans with unruly hair and striped scarves. He manages to make it into the stadium interior, and then quickly realises he has no idea where to go.

He looks about himself desperately, imagining the large automated clock ticking down the seconds in his mind, shortening the time he'll have to reconcile with Dean. He spots a sign overhead, with the words 'changing rooms' and an arrow pointing him in the right direction. He follows it hastily, keeping at a light jog because he can't help but feel he's running out of time.

He pushes past crowds of people carrying hot drinks to ward off the cold but he hardly cares. He has somewhere he needs to be right now, desperately. He reaches the changing rooms at last, finding himself standing before two large sets of closed double doors. If Castiel wanted to ward off the public from entering a certain area, he'd most likely use two sets of doors as well. He's clearly not supposed to go in there. But these public boundary rules surely don't apply in matters as crucial as this one, right?

He barely recognises himself as he pushes through the first set of doors - even just a week ago he would never have dreamed of doing something so rebellious. All he can feel is the adrenaline singing through his veins, his heart pumping warm, urgent blood around his body, pushing him forwards, towards the only thing in his life that's really worth holding onto.

Gabriel doesn't count - he's stuck with Cas for life anyway.

Pushing open the second set of doors takes a bit more nerve, and Castiel has to take a few deep breath before doing it. But the point is that he does, and when eleven annoyed, alarmed faces look over at him from various positions dotted around the room, he gulps loudly, but manages not to bolt from the room.

He recognises a few of the faces as some of the Psi Delta Alpha boys - Gordon Walker is there for one, his helmet tucked under one arm, mud splattering his red shorts. He looks angry, his brow deeply furrowed as he sees Castiel hovering in the entryway.

The changing rooms look like every typical changing room Castiel has ever seen in real life or on TV. Everything is there, from the wooden slatted benches to the whiteboard against one wall with the team's formation scrawled messily on to it, all the players' names labeled on crudely drawn circles, symbolising their positions on the field. Castle's eyes stick for a moment on the words 'D. Winchester'.

After a quick scan of the people in the room, he realises that Dean is simply not present, and he grits his teeth in frustration, practically wanting to cry from it. The eleventh person in the room is actually a much older man, and though on first glance Castiel assumed he was sitting on one of the benches, he realises afterwards that he's in a wheelchair.

It's this russet bearded man, proudly sporting a college-coloured trucker hat and a bright red whistle around his neck, that speaks first.

"And what in God's name do you want, son? Get lost on your way to the burger stand?"

Castiel tries to remember how to speak, realising quickly that now Dean is certainly not in this room, he is in danger of either being thrown out of the stadium, or worse... beaten up by a team of senior football jocks and... potentially an old, disabled man.

"Don't worry Bobby, I know this one." Gordon pipes up before Cas can respond, and Cas wishes that it had literally been anyone else.

Gordon strides forward, towering over Cas, a dangerous look in his eyes. "Lookin' for Dean again, are you?"

Castiel's eyes shine with frightened tears, but he manages to nod mutely. He hears the man in the wheelchair scoff an unamused sounding laugh, and flicks his eyes over to where he is, wondering what's funny.

"When you find the idgit, tell 'im to get his ass back here for the team meeting."

By now, Cas is starting to (underneath the fear) become really confused. Does no one in Dean's own team know where he is right now? This man seems to be the coach of the team, but he has lost one of his players? What's going on?

He feels a hand clamp hard down on his shoulder, and squeaks, looking back up into Gordon's eyes in terror. He hears some of the other teammates titter at his reaction - even Gordon is smiling.

"Listen, Freshman. I don't care who you are, if you're a Pledge or Dean's goddamn fairy godmother - barging in here uninvited with no explanation... that's against the rules." The other footballers in the room let out grunts of agreement at Gordon's words. "And unless you can explain yourself, it makes you look an awful lot like a spy."

"What? Is he spying for the other team, Walker?" One of the other Psi Delta Alpha's cries out, nervous suddenly. "I'll kick his ass if he is!"

Castiel squeaks again, putting his hands up in mock surrender. "N-no! I'm not a spy! Please, I was j-just looking for Dean, if he's not here then... I'll just go."

Gordon shakes him slightly by the shoulder. "That's if we let you, Freshman."

"Alright, alright stop terrorisin' the idgit." The man in the wheelchair (Bobby, Cas heard Gordon say) scalds. "Let him go. If he finds Dean, all the better. Just send him back here when you're done with him." There are several faked puking noises at this last instruction of Bobby's.

Castiel is confused for a moment, and then replays the 'when you're done with him' comment in his mind. Ah, so clearly Dean and Cas's more-than-just-buddies relationship has become common knowledge amongst the footballers. He turns to head back the way he came, blushing furiously, and then feels Gordon catch his arm. He freezes, eyes screwing shut in anticipation of oncoming 'and-don't-come-back' warning pain, but none comes.

Instead, Gordon leans in close, and whispers. "Listen, nerd. Gotta say, I don't care much for you, but Dean's a pal. He's acting weird. If you can sort him out, whether it means screwing him or leaving him or something I don't wanna know about, you do it and we're square." There's a pause, and Castiel cringes, still waiting for a slap. "Got it?"

Castiel nods minutely, heart thumping in a wild fashion as he listens to the chatter of the changing rooms returning to what he assumes is normal. But Gordon isn't finished yet.

"Okay then. I may have seen Dean heading down the entrance corridor with a bunch of the cheerleaders, but you didn't hear that from me."

And with that, as Castiel's heart leaps, before he can even thank Gordon, the elder boy has turned away, hurling his helmet at someone across the room and shouting something obscene. Castiel doesn't hang around. He finally knows where to look for Dean! Things are back on track.

* * *

 

It takes Castiel around ten minutes to find the 'entrance corridor'. It's not exactly signposted, and presumably that's because you only need to know where it is if you're a member of the team. After rounding a corner after what looks suspiciously like a dead end however -  and Castiel knows suddenly where all his tuition money is going, into this labyrinth of a stadium - he finds it.

It's exactly as it says on the tin, a longish corridor, dark and tunnel-like, with the sprawling green field visible at the other end.

It's deserted, except for two figures.

Castiel has to stare for at least a minute before his brain accepts the sight before him. As soon as he comprehends it, he wishes more than anything that he could have spared himself the sight. It seems all at once impossible and inevitable that he would find this, especially after everything that's happened, but whether he expected this or not, it still sends the pain searing through him every bit as furiously.

Dean has his hand pressed against the left wall, propping him up as he leans forwards. Between him and the concrete is another figure, clearly female, her back pressed against the wall, a pom pom in her right hand, which falls at her waist as Dean kisses her.

They must have been kissing for some time, Cas thinks numbly, because he has been staring for a while now. Dean's chest presses against hers, and his other hand cups her chin. It's hard to see in the low lighting, but Castiel thinks the girl has long, red hair. He doesn't even know who she is.

He wonders what he should do, if he should turn and leave without a word, so that they'd never know he was here, but in the end, his phone makes the decision for him. It sounds out loudly, echoing off of the blank, cold walls - a trill like an angel's harp, something he'd jokingly set his text alert to when he was in a happier mood, and thinking of Dean.

The kissing couple look up immediately, and Castiel's cheeks burn. Why is he feeling embarrassed in this situation? He has done nothing wrong. The 'should's' don't matter though. He's still going to have no control of his emotions around Dean, no matter the circumstance.

"Who is that?" The girl asks in a sweet, innocent voice.

Castiel has never had a surge of hatred for anyone well up inside him in such a short amount of time.

He turns to go, severing his staring match with Dean, and with clenched fists, heads back the way he came, tears clouding his eyes already, rendering him practically blind. He doesn't care, he keeps walking. It's not long at all before he hears footsteps running behind him, even a shout of his name, maybe more than once, but he doesn't stop. He speeds up until he's running, back in the public area where crowds of people still mill about, huddling in groups, their faces cheery because their team is winning the game.

Cas doesn't stop, he ploughs through them, getting yelled at more times than he can count - he shoves and squeezes and jogs on and on until finally, finally he's outside again. He stops, bent over, hands on his knees, catching his breath. His lungs hurt from the exertion and from the shock of the cold air rushing down his windpipe. The tears fall from his eyes and he wipes them away hastily, feeling the wind whip mercilessly against the wet patches they leave on his cheeks.

In hindsight it should have been pretty obvious he wouldn't have been able to outrun a jock. Especially not one as ripped as Dean. "Cas."

He doesn't feel relief, he's not glad now that he's found the person he's spent all day (all his life?) looking for. And he should have known that if Dean was so difficult to find in the first place, he should have just stopped looking. Usually the people that are hard to find are the ones who don't want to be found. Castiel sincerely wishes he'd never found him.

"Cas." Dean says again, but Castiel doesn't turn. He straightens up though, his breath escaping in a silvery puff. "What? Are you not even gonna talk to me now? Didn't have you down for bein' so childish."

Castiel can't bear that, he loses it at that moment, and his resolve immediately crumbles. He spins round to face Dean, his face murderous, ready to yell back every reason why Dean is the childish one here and certainly not him, but at the sight of Dean's face, he stops.

Dean doesn't look upset, he doesn't even look mad, he just looks tired. He looks as though he'd rather be anywhere else right now, as though he's bored at having to deal with Castiel and his little tantrum. Cas's words die in his throat.

"Look, Cas," Dean continues, frustrated, as Castiel continues not to speak, "if you're mad about Anna... her and me... well it doesn't even fuckin' matter!" Dean raises his arms wildly, looking to the skies for a second. "You and me were never... we were never anything, Cas. We just used to hook up sometimes. What do you even care if I... y'know."

Castiel's overwhelming despair gives way suddenly, and he plunges suddenly into a volcano of fury at Dean's words. Fuck this. Castiel isn't stupid, he had the highest GPA of his entire school. He _knows_ that they were more than what Dean is saying, for fuck's sake he was _there_. Yes, he may have needed Gabriel or Luke or even fucking Crowley to spell things out for him before he understood the full extent of his and Dean's relationship, but the point is that they _had_ a relationship of sorts - no matter how fucked up it was.

"Dean, will you stop this defence-mechanism bullshit for one second?!" Castiel cries, taking a step towards him, and Dean mercifully seems to shut up at that. "You're so full of shit, Dean. I see right through you, do you know that?!"

Dean's lips press together, and for the first time, Cas sees a flicker of anger behind Dean's expression. At last, some emotion. He doesn't speak though, which is fine by Castiel, because he needs Dean to just shut the fuck up and listen for once.

"I know everything, Dean. I know why you're distant, why you kept me at arm's length and ordered me around like a goddamn puppy on a leash." Castiel says, and he takes another step closer, making sure to maintain this eye contact. They aren't alone out here, they're just outside the exit of the stadium, and several people stare at them as they pass by. But Castiel just doesn't care. "I know about your Dad, and Sam, and all the-"

"Hey!" Dean cuts in, jabbing a finger at Cas. He suddenly looks furious, and Castiel wants nothing more than to fan the flame, to get _more_ out of him because God damn it, he needs Dean to  _care_ about this. And he does, clearly he does, if what everyone is saying is true. "You shut up about Sam. You don't get to talk about him. How did you even find out about- I'm gonna murder Gabriel."

"Who says it was Gabriel?" Castiel counters, trying to get Dean off that train of thought as he remembers Gabriel making him swear not to tell Dean. "Practically your whole Fraternity knows. And I get it, I do, you're protecting him, and he comes first and you're scared your Dad will-"

"Cas," Dean yells, his voice louder than Cas's somehow, "I'm warning you, shut up about this stuff. You don't know what you're talking about."

Castiel waits for a second, impatient and frustrated. "Or maybe I know  _exactly_ what I'm talking about." Dean narrows his eyes, but says nothing. "I was there, Dean. Or did you forget that? I saw you when you disappeared and you came back exhausted and beaten down. I saw you at your most vulnerable, using me to deal with the shit that you went through but never fucking  _talking_ about it. I was _right there_ , I would have helped you, I would have listened, but you just... you never talked to me."

There's a long pause then, and Castiel waits for Dean to say something, to say anything. Maybe he'll relent, maybe he'll back down, Cas thinks, without a hope for that response. This is Dean after all, he's never going to admit he's broken. His pride comes before all else. 

Dean sucks in a breath, and sighs deeply, his shoulders falling from where they'd been tensed. The anger seems to drain from his face, and Castiel knows he's losing the battle again. "Cas man... I don't know what ideas you've got in that super-charged little brain o'yours. But it was just a sex thing, okay?" Dean's eyes don't quite meet his, but the words are still like knives. "I saw you checkin' me out an' I thought it might be fun. And hey, it was, right? But it's gotta stop now, man. It's getting too..." Dean flaps his hand around in the air, seeming to search for the word. "Chick-flick-y."

Castiel's eyes drop to the floor. Maybe Dean isn't lying. Maybe the others got it wrong, and Dean's just a really good actor. Who knows for sure whether Luke and Gordon would tell the truth about something like Dean confessing his totally unlikely feelings for Cas? They're probably just doing it to fuck with Gabriel, by fucking with Cas. 

No, Cas thinks, feeling suddenly like the world's most monumental fool. Dean never liked him. He's right, it was always just physical. And Cas is stupid for letting himself get sucked in so far. 

"Fine." Cas nearly whispers, and when he raises his eyes to meet Dean's again, he's embarrassed to find they are once again filled with tears. "But Dean, you have to know- this nearly killed me." He pauses, swallowing down a sob. He sees something flash in Dean's eyes briefly. "No one should have to live with being someone's... someone's  _toy._ That's all I was, just something for you to fuck around with, to amuse yourself." Castiel wipes his tears when they spill over, his movements ferocious and irritated. "And you  _knew_ how I felt about you, don't even try to deny that. I was a virgin, Dean - I was naive and stupid and new to it all, and you screwed me up."

Dean is shivering, Cas notices. His lip trembles slightly, and his legs shake. He's wearing such little clothing that Cas isn't surprised. It's almost cruel to give footballers just shorts and a big t-shirt to wear in November for crying out loud, but right now Cas is sadistically glad of it. 

"You said you wanted to-" Dean starts to say, and to Castiel's satisfaction, he sounds almost apologetic now. 

"Don't." Castiel interrupts. "I said I wanted to give you my virginity?" His head shakes very slightly. "I wanted to give it to someone who actually wanted it. And you acted like you did." More tears spill over then, and Castiel just lets them, he doesn't have the energy or patience to keep wiping them away. Dean takes a hesitant step forward at the sight, but Cas recoils. "Why did you even want me, Dean? Was it just to see if you could?" Dean doesn't answer, but he casts his eyes down, and Cas sees his jaw tense in that way of his. "Well it wasn't that hard, huh? And the only consequence was breaking the heart of some Freshman, so barely any damage done, right?" Cas takes a step forwards, as close to Dean as he'll allow himself to be. "Keep my virginity, you sadistic asshole. But know that it was wasted on you." 

Cas turns on his heel then, and starts to walk slowly away. Before he does however, he turns, almost surprised to see Dean still staring after him, his expression pained. 

"Oh, right." Castiel says, acting as though it's almost an afterthought. "I remembered something. The 'no kissing' thing - that's so you could keep sex and everything else separate, right?" He doesn't need Dean's confirmation, but he waits for the acknowledgement to reach Dean's eyes anyway. "Uh huh. Well, do you remember the first time we met, Dean? When you cornered me in that lab, you not only told me I could kiss you later that night, but you kissed _me_. Right off." Dean swallows, and he looks away, but doesn't deny it. "I was asking around y'know, and according to Luke Milton, that no kissing thing is the standard Dean Winchester rule. With _all_ your hook-ups." Castiel's fists clench a little. "It just seems strange that considering you never kiss anyone, kissing was on the cards right from the get-go with us." 

He sees Dean's eyes close slowly, and he knows he hit something there. "Cas, I... please don't..."

"Yeah." Cas says, shrugging as he feels the numbness flooding his body again. "Didn't care about me at all beyond a fuck, right? You sure know how to deal with things, Alpha Dean." Cas sighs deeply, and knows that he needs to keep this going. He needs Dean to feel worse than this, to even scratch the edge of the pain Cas is going to feel. "Well I loved you. So you can marinate on that for the next few days if you want. Or y'know, you can go back and suck face with a whore of a cheerleader who doesn't care about you at all. You know, beyond a fuck."

He does leave then, not even looking at Dean for most of that last speech or after it. He doesn't want to see the reaction, doesn't want to see pain on Dean's face, because God help him he still cares about the guy. But he wants to know that he caused pain at least.

Walking away from Dean for good, the pain is gut-wrenching, it's his insides being devoured by themselves, but he forces himself to keep a steady pace, to not give Dean the satisfaction of seeing him crumble. Dean has to think that Cas is strong, that he will be able to shrug this off, even if that is the biggest lie he's ever told. 

He hopes he hurt Dean, it's all he wanted in the end. If Dean even feels an ounce of this, Cas will be happy. Because this is torture, and Dean... well, Dean deserves it.

* * *

 

Castiel wakes up in his room at around eleven pm, laid out on his bed. He doesn't really have a memory of how he got back, but he guesses he must have headed straight there after the fight. He realises that it's his phone buzzing that woke him, and reaches into his pocket blearily, fighting against the coat he still has on. It's Gabriel of course, ringing him. 

He sighs, but answers.

"Hello?" His voice is croaky and weak.

"Cassy? Oh, thank the Heavens above. I've been going crazy! Where the heck are you?!"

Castiel casts a weary eye around himself. "I'm... in my room."

"Oh." Gabriel pauses. "Well, I guess I could have checked there. That might have been a slight oversight on my part but  _seriously,_ Cassy! You left without me? After all the stink you made about- oh.  _Ohhh_." Gabriel's voice has taken on a lecherous tone."You're with him aren't you?"

Castiel's eyes fall shut, pain ricocheting through him. "No."

"Oh, don't give me that- I'm at the Frat House and Dean-o is 'fo-sho' not here. Y'know if you're gonna run off and have hot make up sex you could at _least_ tell the big brother you dragged along to the game where you're-"

"Gabriel." Cas says, and there must be something in his voice that conveys how he's feeling, because Gabe immediately shuts up. "I'm not with him. I'm not with anyone. Don't you think that the timings were off? I mean, I left at halftime, and Dean," Castiel sucks in a breath, not prepared for how much it would hurt to say his name, "presumably played the second half."

"If you could call it playing." Gabriel mutters.

"What?"

"No- nothing. What happened, Cassy? Are you alright?"

Castiel turns onto his side, a tear slipping down his nose. He picks at a loose thread on his pillow, pulling it until a seam unravels. "Not really, no."

"Shit." Gabriel breathes. "Cassy, tell me everything." 

So Castiel does, not skipping any details because he just can't be bothered anymore. Gabriel can find it gross and deal with it, Cas needs someone to know, otherwise he's all alone in this, and who knows what he might do. 

"And then I left." Castiel finishes, well aware that his head is now resting in a damp patch of pillow, but doing nothing about it. "I'm so stupid, Gabe."

"No, Cassy... don't even think that. He's a dick. Worse. A great big bag of dicks." Castiel manages a small smile. "I underestimated his dickishness. I'm sorry that I... I kinda talked you into... talking to him. That was a bad idea."

"Gabe, this is hardly your fault."

"No but just..." Gabriel makes a frustrated little sound. "I dunno. I guess I really thought he'd... I was so sure he'd carry you off into the sunset again. I don't understand."

Castiel's stomach hurts from all the crying; he's pretty sure he's too dehydrated to cry anymore anyway. "I think... I should sleep, Gabriel. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Okay, little bro. I'll come check in on you tomorrow after class. I'll bring candy."

Castiel huffs a small laugh. "Thanks."

"No worries. Try not to dwell too hard, alright? If you need me again, just pick up the phone."

"Even if it's four am?" Castiel teases.

"Seriously, I don't do this shit for anyone else, so take advantage of the privileges." 

"Night, Gabe."

"Night, Cassy."

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resolutions and Tequila go hand in hand alright?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hello there Dean chapter. Chapter from Dean's perspective. A Dean POV chapter. 
> 
> Yep. That's what this is just FYI in case you didn't get the memo ;) 
> 
> Love you all xxx

Well shit, Dean thinks. 

So that's it then. He rests his head against the steering wheel of his beloved Impala, the icy metal feeling just torturous enough to satisfy him as it chills his forehead. He knew it would end. He always knew, deep down, that something that good can never last, especially not when your name is Dean Winchester. 

He just wishes it wasn't so... cataclysmic. Yeah, that's a big fucking word, he knows. And he almost laughs outright, because even  _that,_ even his broadened vocabulary is down to Cas. After their 'tutoring session' - if you could call it that - Dean actually went and fucking  _read_ the clunky great textbook that's sat untouched on his desk since the start of the semester. Not all of it, let's not get crazy - he's still terrifically bored by the entire concept of science and education itself for that matter, but he at least read the chapter on Covalent Bonds. The stuff Cas was rambling on about before... Well. 

And yeah, maybe he read a bit more too. The back of the textbook has a glossary, okay?! He didn't know what 'cataclysmic' meant, and instead of having to throw his book on the floor and pretend he's too cool to read it because he didn't damn well  _understand_ it, he could actually... find out what it meant. 

Yeah, that was actually pretty helpful. 

And cataclysmic is exactly how he'd describe that little confrontation with Cas earlier today. And thanks to the 'cataclysmic-ness' (is that a word? Who cares) of that confrontation, now his tutor in all things good and miraculous in life is... gone. Forever.

He groans, and lifts his head a little only to bang it back on the steering wheel once more. 

"Woah!" Pipes up the person next to him when he does this. "Okay, I agreed to be a shoulder to cry on while you moped about something you wouldn't say a damn  _word_ about earlier, but I am not going to let you injure yourself, Dean."

Dean sighs and reluctantly sits up in his seat, turning slowly to face Anna. She's such a beautiful, perfect, angelic creature, he thinks, staring at her pale, concerned face, her halo of crimson hair. Why can't he just want her instead? Why can't everything just be simple and normal? And why can't he turn back time to before he ever met six feet of awkward, onyx-haired, cerulean-eyed perfection and spare the poor guy the pain of being anywhere near Dean Winchester and his black-hole gravitational pull of utter  _shit._

"Sorry," Dean says lifelessly, turning away from Anna again, watching the specks of rain flick at his windscreen, "I didn't mean to lure you here under false pretences. I thought I wanted company. Maybe you should just go."

"Uh uh." Anna says, her face growing stern. "I'm not leaving without some kind of explanation. That was some crazy crap you pulled back there, Winchester. And I was a part of it, so I deserve to know everything."

Dean's head slumps forwards, his chin resting on his chest. He does not want to have this conversation right now. He wants to wallow in his misery, alone, in his car. 

"I didn't wanna involve you. I just... I needed a- a-"

"A scapegoat?"

Dean looks up, shocked. "No! No, Anna I swear."

"Then what? Tell me what's going on, Dean." Anna demands, and she seems to be getting pretty annoyed now. Dean should never have invited her here, this was a terrible idea. "Who was that kid? That boy that saw you kiss me? And why did you do that in the first place? What about your 'no kissing' rule?"

"Anna..." Dean pleads, his eyes slipping closed, "please stop asking questions. I'm sorry that I used you - I needed someone to... to help me fool him into thinking..." Dean breaks off, his eyes opening, glazed and staring forwards. "Well. I guess it's not fooling if it's true, huh?"

Anna's arms fold beside him, and he turns to her reluctantly. Her face is still unsympathetic. "Spill."

So Dean sighs, and he tells her. He talks for hours, probably boring her to tears, recounting each treasured moment he spent with Cas over the last few weeks, all etched into his brain forever, starting with his very first sighting of the guy. 

He finds himself spiralling off into rambles at various points about stupid, pointless but oh-so-important stuff - the colour of Cas's cheeks when he blushes, the curve of his hipbone, the look in his eyes when Dean calls him 'angel'. 

By the time he gets to everything that's happened today it's gone midnight, and Anna is somehow miraculously still silent, still listening, her face unreadable. The only time her face shifts is when he talks about approaching her for the first time, and the planning that went into it. 

"So it was all a ploy?" She asks eventually, just as Dean thinks he might die from the unbearable silence. 

He nods solemnly. "Yes."

"To... what? To hurt that poor kid for no reason?" Anna asks incredulously, and Dean looks shocked. "Some twisted power play to make him fall for you and then push him away?"

"What?" Dean asks. "No! Anna, I just explained- Cas was... _is_  better off far away from me. He needed to see that or he would never have stopped!" Dean flounders for the words to explain himself properly - how can he get Anna to understand? Why should he have to? "I mean... _I_ never would have stopped. I... I don't know what it is about him but... I dunno, I've never... I couldn't keep away. So I had to do something- something to break it off for good you know? For his sake and mine."

Anna's arms remain folded, and her face is still cold. He hasn't succeeded in winning her over yet. Again, Dean wishes he'd just come out here by himself, but he didn't so there's no point in even thinking that. Anna's right, he does owe her an explanation, seeing as he used her and all. 

So Dean tries again. "It's just... Cas- he would've gotten closer and closer to the truth, and... Anna I know your whole frickin Sorority knows every bit of my personal life by now, so you know damn well it's a steaming pile of crap and the further away you get from it - and me - the better."

"God, Dean you are so pig-headed sometimes." Anna says, shaking her head and turning to look out of her window. "It's such a cliché - pushing someone away because they get too close? Being scared of letting someone in? Even if you..." She turns, her eyes scrutinising him. "Have real, deep feelings for that person?"

Dean turns to face the windshield again, scowling slightly. His hands come up to grip the steering wheel. "Yeah, so what - I'm a cliché. Doesn't mean I'm wrong."

"Yes it does!" Anna cries immediately, her hands going heavenward for a moment to emphasise her point. "Dean, can you really not see what's happening here? It's so obvious to me it's like something out of a bad movie." Dean side eyes her, his face telling her she's crazy. "Your whole life you've been made to put someone else's happiness before your own."

"Hey," Dean interrupts, "no one  _made_ me do anything. Sammy's... my resp-"

"Your responsibility." Anna finishes, and Dean gives her a look. "Yeah, I know, but most kids your age - they don't have a responsibility like that, y'know?" Dean tries to bat her comment out of the air with a 'pshht' sound, but Anna's not having any of it. "Most kids our age - all they have to worry about it grades, finals and  _love._ A lot of people I know would put that last one top of the list. But you... you never let anything knock Sammy off first place. So you're lost now, and confused and scared and it's  _okay._ Because it's a scary thing. But don't ruin the first chance you've had to be happy since you were five years old." 

Dean's eyes sting, and he blinks furiously, refusing to believe that  _tears_ of all things are threatening to spill out of his ducts. He still doesn't face Anna, but his knuckles are white where they grip the wheel. He feels her put a gentle hand on his shoulder, and part of him - the part that John Winchester beat into a closeted, insecure robot masked as 'Daddy's good little soldier' - wants to shrug it off and order her out of the car. But there's another part now. A part that argues every bit as furiously as John's part, but with intelligence and common sense instead of brutality. With love and kindness instead of a humour defence mechanism and sexual innuendos. 

The two parts of him battle it out in his mind, fighting furiously as Dean sits there, hunched over his steering wheel, Anna's hand still on his shoulder. Eventually, he straightens. The battle is won. 

"I hurt him so bad, Anna." Dean whispers, letting the walls around his guarded emotions fall at last. He lets every ounce of the pain and fondness and feeling he has for Castiel flood through him, and it's excruciating, but it's also more alive than he's felt in years. Gone is the empty nothingness, the black hole inside of him that could never be filled with sex or alcohol or food no matter how hard he tried. It's full now, full of hope and longing, but also guilt and regret for what he did. "I don't think..." Dean lets out a shuddering sigh, and realises too late that those tears have spilled over after all. "I doubt he'll ever speak to me again." 

Anna's hand grows firmer, and she squeezes slightly, so he relaxes into her a little. "Don't be so sure. From what you told me, that guy is crazy about you. If you apologise... who knows. You could turn him." Dean leans up, and he turns to shoot Anna a smile, but to be honest, the flame of hope that might have been burning within him if Anna had talked to him before everything that happened today has dwindled to almost ashes. "Dean," Anna says softly, catching his eye, "don't you think it's at least worth a shot?"

* * *

 

Dean spends a long time 'getting ready' to go and find Cas. First, as soon as he's back in the Frat he sits on his bed and thinks for a minute. If he's really going to do this, he needs to do it properly. He needs a plan, to structure what he's going to say, how to phrase things so that Cas will actually listen to him and not just slam the door in his face. 

He gets up, sighing. Then again, he's always been the 'thinking on his feet' type. Maybe it's better to speak from the heart? Who knows? He's useless about this stuff. Maybe he should call Sammy. But then he'd have to update Sam on the  _whole_ drama, relive it again just after he's gone through it with Anna. It's Monday now, Dean has slept for a long time to try and ready himself for the terrifying conversation he's going to need to have soon. 

He walks to his mirror, shrugging inside his Letterman until it rests more comfortably on his shoulders, and then running careful fingers through his hair. He grimaces when he catches sight of the dark circles under his eyes, courtesy of John Winchester and the whole Castiel fiasco. He could use some comfort right about now. 

Almost as a reaction to that thought, his fingers pluck the phone out of his jeans pocket and scroll through his contacts to find Sam. He smiles slightly as he presses the call button, hoping the kid will be at lunch right now, maybe free to talk. It's only 1pm after all. 

Sam picks up on the first ring. 

"Hello? Dean?'

Dean blinks a little in surprise. "Uh, hi Sammy. What, did you have your phone in your hand?"

"No, um... just good reflexes I guess." Sam replies, and Dean is immediately suspicious - though of course that's ridiculous. There's no way Sam could know anything about Dean's life. He's always been careful to hide anything unsavoury from his little brother, and unfortunately, for the past few weeks Cas has been no exception. "What's up?"

Dean sighs, running a hand through his hair again. "I dunno, just wanted to hear your voice I guess."

Sam makes a noise that sounds like understanding. "Something up?"

Dean pauses, not knowing how to respond. "Nah." He pauses again. "Yeah. I dunno, Sammy. Lately everything seems kinda... hopeless."

"Tell me what happened, Dean. Talk to me." Sam urges, and he sounds frustrated. 

Dean looks skyward. "Nah, Sammy you got enough to deal with up there." Dean grimaces. "How is Dad, anyhow?" 

"Passed out on the couch same as always." Sam deflects. "Stop trying to change the topic, Dean. Something's getting to you. I can tell. What's wrong?"

Dean can't help but smile sadly at his brother's words. Sammy knows him so well. "It's nothing, Sam. Just forget it. I'm just checkin' in."

"Dean-" The frustration has built behind Sam's voice, he sounds angry now, and Dean raises his eyebrows in surprise. "God damn it Dean, I am so sick of you not telling me anything and having to hear it all second hand! Why can't you just  _talk_ to me - I'm going to be up there with you next year anyway provided you're still there-"

"Woah, woah!" Dean interrupts, eyes widening in shock. "What the Hell are you talkin' about, Sammy? Hearing it second hand? From who?!"

There's a pause, and Sam's breathing becomes slow and unsure. "No one." He says eventually. Dean scoffs, disbelieving. What the Hell is going on?! "Look, Dean - it doesn't matter how I know or who said what, the point is that you're being pig-headed and overly-defensive as usual. You need to stop procrastinating, get off the phone to your brother and find Cas. He's the one that's gonna make it all better Dean." There's a pause where Dean hears Sammy huff a laugh on the other end of the phone. "There are just some things a brother can't do." 

Dean's mouth hangs open in surprise.  _What the fuck._ Sammy even knows Cas's name! Knows his  _nickname,_  the onethat only Dean calls him! 

"Sammy," Dean says as calmly as possible, his teeth gritted, "who told you all that stuff?"

"Anyway Dean, better go!" Sammy cries suddenly, his voice shrill. "Go find him, I believe in you et cetera!" 

"Sammy don't you dare-"

The dial tone pierces through Dean's eardrum, so abrupt that Dean lets the phone fall from his ear. He catches it just in time before it falls to the floor. He stares at it, incredulous, running through every conversation he's had with Sam in the last few weeks and scanning it for mentions of Cas. Sure he bitched to Sam now and again about his Frat buddies, and even about Gabriel trashing the house after the party... but he was always so careful not to mention Cas. 

There's absolutely no way that Sam got this information from him. There's just no way Dean would have let his baby brother in on something like his ridiculous pining for a Freshman he's known for less than a month. As soon as he's resolved things with Cas, he thinks, he's going to drive up to Kansas and hold his little brother upside down (regardless of how freakishly tall he's gotten recently) until he spits out who it was or where it was he found out about Dean's romantic crisis. 

For now though, Sam is right, Dean begrudgingly thinks. He needs to find Cas. 

* * *

 

 **Dean Winchester**  
**13:38pm**  
Cas, can we talk? I know you hate  
me but please? I'll explain   
everything, I swear. 

 **Dean Winchester**  
**13:46pm**  
I'm sorry about what I said on Sunday.  
If I could take it back, I would. Please  
talk to me. 

 **Dean Winchester**  
**13:55pm**  
You were so right about everything  
Cas. I've been a dick. Let me   
say sorry in person at least?

 **Dean Winchester**  
**14:00pm**  
I'm coming to find you. I have to  
talk to you.

* * *

 

Dean searches for the whole of Monday and doesn't find him. He goes repeatedly to his room, stopping back there at various intervals throughout the day; he's never in there, and each time he finds himself trapped in a hideous conversation with his flatmate, Becky, who talks to him about the strangest things. She seems quite sexually frustrated, and harbours an alarming crush on her Religious Studies Professor - Professor Shurley. 

Nevertheless, he keeps going back just in case. But it's useless. He tries the coffee shop in the middle of campus at Becky's recommendation, she says it's Cas's favourite hangout. He even refuels in there with a coffee and finds that yeah, actually it's a really great spot and he can totally see why Cas likes it in there. He can picture the gorgeous idiot hunched over some hefty books in the corner or on one of those squishy brown sofas, his glasses sliding down his nose, a coffee resting on his papers. 

Man, he wishes Cas were actually in here right now. He sips his coffee and sighs, looking around himself, soaking in the atmosphere. It's lively and warm in this place, there are lots of friends huddled around tables, laughing together - but there are people by themselves too, immersed in books or typing furiously on laptops. It's a cool place, he thinks, and he mentally adds it to his list of places he wants to come with Cas. 

They'd totally sit on the sofas, Dean thinks, smiling, and the coffee warms him as it travels through his body. Cas would be awkward at first, not knowing where to sit or how to place himself - maybe he'd get all flustered about being so close to Dean like he does sometimes, but then Dean would hook his arm around Cas's shoulders and pull him in, squish them together until Cas relaxed against him. They'd just sit like that for a long time, Dean thinks, staring at an empty space on one of the sofas, imagining them there. 

Cas would rest his head on Dean's shoulder as they talked about stupid stuff. Dean's stomach would start to hurt a little from how much Cas is making him laugh, even if he doesn't mean to. And when Cas got grumpy from Dean laughing at him, Dean would coax his head round to face him, and press their lips together, because that's what he wants to do damn it, and he should never have stopped himself in the first place. 

Dean drains the last of his coffee and stands up, sighing. He waves to a few people dotted around the café who acknowledge him. He is a Senior Frat Quarterback after all. Though admittedly, those that do wave look slightly less admiring than usual, but that's almost definitely down to the game on Sunday. Dean ducks his head, blushing very slightly, and heads for the door. 

* * *

 

He arrives back at the Frat House utterly defeated. He checked everywhere he could think of for Cas - the library, the shops on campus, he even went and found Crowley. But nobody had seen him, and Crowley looked extremely annoyed at being disturbed for such a 'mindless request' as he put it. He's literally tried every place in the vicinity he thinks that possibly Cas may have ventured, but there's been no luck. 

There's only one place left to try, and Dean just... he doesn't want to. He doesn't have it in him to be told yet again how selfish and terrible he was, and is still being until he can actually  _find_ Cas. More than that, he doesn't want to be told by... the brother of the very person he hurt. 

Obviously, since Cas has chosen to either block Dean's number or ignore all of his calls and texts, Gabriel is the best person to talk to in regards to getting Cas's whereabouts. But Gabriel is so fiercely protective of his little brother, and hey - Dean can relate! If some dickhead Frat Boy tries messing Sammy about next year the way Dean has with Cas... that guy wouldn't even be  _standing._

And Gabriel warned him. He told Dean clearly that if he hurt Cas, he'd be sorry. Right then, that's when Dean should have backed off. But he didn't. He _couldn't._ He just kept taking more and more from Cas, using him up, soaking in his warmth because Dean has been so, so cold for so long and it felt... like nothing on earth to actually be warm again. 

Never mind that he fucking shattered the heart of an innocent, virginal little angel, right? Yeah, Dean fucking deserves any and all pranks Gabriel will inevitably dump on him for this. He just doesn't want to face it. 

But he's going to. It's the only way. 

It's fairly late by the time he makes his way up the stairs. It must be at least nine o' clock, thinks Dean. His searching was very thorough - he even checked the student bar. And yeah, maybe he had a pint. Or two. So sue him. They're a dollar each there, he's had a fake ID since high school and he's had the roughest week imaginable. 

He takes a deep breath before knocking on Gabriel's door. He tries to puff himself up, putting on his 'Alpha' façade as he prepares to face one of his brothers, but he deflates quickly, realising that it's not going to help things if he barges into Gabriel's room and tries to order the guy about on top of everything else. It's only when he hears movement on the other side of the door that Dean considers the notion that Cas might actually be in there. With Gabriel. 

The thought makes him tense up, and his eyes grow wide and alarmed. No way is he psyched up enough for that right now - his feet move backwards of their own accord, thinking very seriously about fleeing down the hall into his own room, just in case a black haired, blue eyed beauty opens the door instead of The Trickster. 

The door opens abruptly however, and it is in fact just Gabriel standing in the doorway, his omnipresent smirk disappearing immediately as soon as he sees who it is paying him a visit. He doesn't say anything, which is unusual to say the least - he just stares, waiting. 

"Um," Dean begins eloquently, "hi Gabe."

Gabriel makes no movement, he just continues to stare. Then he sighs. "What, Dean?"

The voice is bitter, and Dean's never heard him sound so hateful before. The Trickster is known for his ability to brush literally anything off as a joke - or at least seem to, until later when he dumps a bucket of fish guts on your head - but this is pure, icy spite. 

"Um," Dean flounders, looking at the floor, "can I- could I come in? I wanna talk to you."

Gabriel is silent for a moment, but then he sighs again. "What could you possibly have to say?" 

Dean looks up at Gabriel helplessly. "I just wanna explain some stuff, man. Please, I don't know what else to do here."

Gabriel scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief, but he walks into his room anyway, leaving the door open. Dean takes this as an invitation, or as close as he's going to get to one anyway, and scurries inside. He's only been in Gabriel's room a couple of times before, but every time it's been covered in candy wrappers. Today is no exception. Gabriel wanders over to the bed and sweeps some off onto the floor before clambering on, leaning back against his pillow. He picks up a copy of Busty Asian Beauties and continues reading, as though Dean weren't even there. 

Dean politely shuts the door behind them, and when he turns, Gabriel is looking at him levelly over the top of the skin mag. 

"So are you gonna try and justify using my little brother as one of your weird sex toys and then splintering his heart into a million pieces?" Gabriel asks, his voice calm but his words like knives. 

Dean flinches as he hears Gabriel speak. "Gabe, it's not like that. I swear. Just let me explain, okay?"

"Why should I?" Gabriel asks, quite rightly, letting his magazine fall to his chest as he folds his arms over it. He raises his eyebrows, inviting Dean to answer, and Dean has absolutely no response. There's no reason in Hell why Gabriel should listen to anything he has to say, not after how he acted. 

So he says the only thing he has left - the only thing that's even keeping him going right now. "Gabriel, I... care about your brother. Like a  _lot._ He's basically... he's the only good thing in my life, and he's not even in it anymore. I was a selfish, sadistic prick Gabe, I am so, so aware of that believe me." Dean closes his eyes for a moment. God is he aware. "But all I want- all I can think about is getting him back. And this time..." Dean steps towards Gabriel cautiously. "This time, God damn it Gabriel I  _swear_ to you I will not treat him like that. I can't even imagine treating him like that anymore, what the fuck was I thinking? He's everything good and pure about the world and I... I just fucked him up. God, who does that?!"

Dean realises he's gone off on a bit of a tangent, and he focuses his attention back on Gabriel, trying to glean his reaction. Gabriel is still being annoyingly quiet, but he lowers his raised eyebrow and sticks out his lower lip. 

"Interesting proposal." Gabriel says, and his fingers reach up to stroke an imaginary goatee.His gaze hardens, fixating itself on Dean again.

"Look, 'alpha'," Gabriel begins, rolling his eyes, "you really fucking messed up with this one, okay? My little brother is, right at this moment probably drowning his sorrows - yeah, you heard me right. You got him into alcoholism - kudos there my friend. But it's not my problem." Dean is a little taken aback, not just by the learning of Cas's new penchance for alcohol as a spirit lifter. "Sure, I'm gonna make you pay for hurting my flesh and blood so viciously, but it's sure as Hell not me you need to be in here apologising to. I can think whatever I want about you - as a scary elder brother that's my prerogative. It's  _Cassy_ you've gotta win over. And I'm not exactly crossing my fingers for you, nor do I think you have a hope in Hell considering what you did, but hey. Stranger things have happened, right?"

"But..." Dean begins slowly, finding words suddenly quite difficult. "No wait, I tried, you don't understand. I've been tryin' all day-"

"Oh, mercy me!" Gabriel interrupts sarcastically. "Not a whole day! Do you know how long I've had to listen to my brother whine and cry about you? Weeks, Winchester, weeks!"

Dean's eyebrows raise, surprised. No, he didn't know that. Wow, he really had something good with Cas there at the beginning. The poor guy was really into him. "Gabriel, listen - I've been looking everywhere. I can't find him, he's not even in his room! Do you know where he is?"

Gabriel sighs. "Mmmmaybe."

Dean doesn't even think about it, he sinks to his knees, hands clasping together in desperation. "Gabriel. Please. Please tell me where he is. I need to explain to him, I have to tell him... just. Please."

Gabriel's mouth falls open as he takes in the sight before him. He seems to take a few seconds to process it, and then huffs a mildly hysterical laugh. "Wow, Dean. Okay, I gotta say - you must really want this. I literally never thought I'd ever even  _hear_ about you getting on your knees for someone, let alone  _see_ it."

Dean clenches his jaw, staying in position. "Go ahead, take a picture, make it last. Do what ever you want. I have to fix it with Cas, it's the only thing that matters anymore."

Gabriel nods, looking slightly impressed. "Okay. Alright, you won me over." Gabriel reaches into his bedside drawer, rummaging around for a moment as he talks. "He was here all day today, that's why you didn't see him I'd imagine. I told him he could lock the door, curl up in my bed and eat my candy all while avoiding you. It was an offer he couldn't refuse." Gabriel fishes something out of the drawer and brings it to his face. "Hold still, that's it-" A bright white light flashes suddenly, blinding Dean a little, and he scowls, realising he's had his photo taken, but remains knelt on the floor regardless. "Perfect." Gabriel says, throwing the camera back in the drawer. 

"How'd he know I wouldn't find him in here?" Dean can't help but ask, wanting to check the facts in Gabriel's story before he takes the  _Trickster's_ information at face value. 

"Oh come on, it's obvious you were avoiding me, Dean." Gabriel replies, rolling his eyes. "I mean, the brother of the guy you just brutally dumped? Yeah, I think I'd steer clear of him too. Especially if he's a world renowned prankster." Gabriel winks then, and Dean rolls his eyes. 

"Okay, so what about now - is he back in his room?" Dean asks, wondering if it's too late to make it over there now. 

"Could be." Gabriel replies vaguely, picking up his magazine again, clearly losing interest. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

Gabriel sighs, throwing Busty Asian Beauties down on the bed. "Look, he likes to drink away his troubles right? I happen to know he's out of that tequila you gave him last time you... 'visited'." Gabriel shudders, and Dean rolls his eyes again. "So I'd guess he might've gone to a bar."

" _Cas?_ " Dean asks incredulously. "A bar?"

Gabriel looks at him pityingly. "Holy crap." His voice is softer now. "You have no idea, do you Dean?"

Dean shrugs. "No idea?"

"What you've done to him."

* * *

 

After scaring the living crap out of him, Gabriel squeezed out one last helpful bit of advice for Dean about where to find Cas. Something he should have thought of earlier really - it's Tuesday tomorrow. Tuesday was the day they met, outside the classroom they share. 

Translation: Cas will have class tomorrow. And Dean knows exactly when and where. 

Also, Cas is technically still his tutor for Crowley's class, though he has little hope of that actually happening. Still, that's an almost confirmed sighting of Cas tomorrow at 2pm. So Dean heads for bed with very slightly lifted spirits, thanking Gabriel a lot, and getting a middle finger thrown up at him in response. 

He deserves a lot worse.

* * *

 

The morning arrives, rousing Dean from a restless, unpleasant sleep filled with dreams of Cas where he was always just out of reach. Slipping round corners at the last second, or disappearing into vast lakes as Dean waded in helplessly after him. 

He shakes them off as best he can and goes to get ready for the day, trying to force himself to take extra care with his appearance despite being so anxious that he drops the comb, toothpaste and shower gel in turn. 

He dresses warmly, but refuses to go without his Letterman jacket. He needs it today, it's a kind of good luck charm for him. Same goes for the amulet Sammy gave to him, but that's pretty much permanently round his neck. By the time he's finished prepping himself, it's only 10am, which leaves him with four hours to kill before he can seek out Cas, or three hours if he actually goes to class today in the vain hope Cas might show up to tell him to fuck off in regards to tutoring. He decides that coffee is definitely a necessity right now, so he heads downstairs and makes himself a cup in the filthy kitchen. 

Living with a house full of adolescent dudes can be fun at times, and it makes for killer parties, but man - it is no way to live if you want to be even remotely clean. He meanders into the living area with his steaming cup, slumping down on the sofa and wishing someone would come and talk to him, distract him from the incredible anxiety coursing through him. But of course it's way, way too early for anyone to be up in this house by _choice_. 

Dean spots his Chemistry textbook lying on precariously on the coffee table in front of him, and it's almost like some kind of hilarious sign. Weirdly, Dean knows that reading the godawful thing will numb his mind enough that he won't be thinking about Cas anymore, so it's actually probably the best chance he has at being distracted. 

He sighs, reaching for the heavy, uninviting object, and flicks to a random page. Macromolecules. That'll do, he thinks, gulping more hot coffee down, and settling in for a long read. 

* * *

 

At 12:54pm someone wanders into the room, and Dean looks up, realising he's been absorbed in the workings of chemistry for the last couple of hours. He's actually finding that a lot of it isn't as stupid or even as hard as he'd originally thought - there's stuff in here that he actually already kind of  _knows,_ mainly from tinkering about in the engine of his baby for as long as he can remember. 

Maybe he actually does have a hope in Hell at passing this class, he thinks, slightly balking at the very notion. If Cas tutored him again, that is - maybe if they fix things... He takes a breath. One thing at a damn time. 

"Dean?" The person who just wandered in says, and he sounds cautious.

Dean shuts the book, stretching as he turns to face whoever it is. He's met with the slightly concerned face of Luke Milton, and he blushes a little. What must Luke think of him by now? A once great Alpha, a leader to aspire to, now a blithering lovesick mess, pining over a Freshman. 

"Hey man." Dean says quietly, and then blushes again, remembering that he was a pretty big douche with the guy's sister, Anna, not that long ago. Jeez, he's a mess. "What's up?"

"Nothing." Luke says, shrugging, his foot shuffling awkwardly on the floor. He's still in his sweatpants and a Ramones t-shirt. He definitely just woke up. "How you been? I haven't seen you in a while."

Dean smiles half-heartedly, getting to his feet. "Ah, y'know. Shitty. But hey, things can only get better, right?"

Luke nods, though he clearly looks perplexed. "Uh huh. You, uh... you work things out with that kid?"

Dean freezes, caught off guard, but he forces himself to swallow down any defence mechanisms about to shoot out of him. He shrugs, trying to look nonchalant. "Nah. But I'm tryin'."

Luke smiles a little at him. "Good. Y'know Dean... I don't care. You're still the best fuckin' Alpha this Frat has ever seen." Dean rolls his eyes, but doesn't completely ignore the pride that swells within him. "If you like this guy... then go for it. I mean, you're Dean freaking Winchester. He'd have to be an idiot to say no, right?"

Dean laughs a little, and strides over to Luke, pulling him in for a short, socially acceptable bro-hug, complete with claps on the back, before stepping away. "Damn straight." Luke laughs at Dean's faux confidence. "Anyway, what're you still doin' here Milton - did you just get outta bed you lazy fucker?"

Luke laughs, fidgeting. "Maybe. What time is it anyway?"

Dean laughs with him, turning to read the novelty clock on the wall. "It's... Oh, shit!"

It's 1pm. Dean's late to class already, but even worse - if Cas has come there to tell Dean that tutoring's off, or even - miracle of miracles that will never ever occur - to  _actually_ tutor him, he's late for that too. 

"Shit, man," Dean says hurriedly, grabbing his Chemistry textbook and jogging towards the door, he turns back to call to Luke, "I gotta go, I'll catch you later, okay? Wish me luck!"

"Good luck, weirdo. Hope you get your infant." Luke says, amused, and Dean full on sprints out of the door.

* * *

 

He bursts into Crowley's classroom at 1:08pm (a record time), panting heavily and red-faced from all the running. Crowley looks up, totally unamused.

"Mr Winchester." He acknowledges, and Dean wants to punch the British sarcasm right off his smarmy face. "Decided to join us, have you?"

Dean has no time to play Crowley's weird games. "Professor, has Castiel Novak turned up? He's supposed to tutor me, remember?"

Crowley is silent for a moment, and then his eyes narrow. He stalks over towards Dean, who still lingers in the open doorway, ignoring the sniggers and whispers coming from his peers around the room, all who have undoubtedly heard about Dean's penchance for Freshmen - or rather one in particular - by now. 

"Dean," Crowley hisses once he's close enough, "I  _dread_ to discover what twisted, sordid little tryst you and my first year student have going on - and let this be my declaration that I have absolutely no desire to hear about the matter." Crowley's voice is low, but it keeps crescendoing, and every time it does the Frat boys laugh and Dean goes a slightly deeper shade of crimson. "But know that I do  _not_ appreciate being questioned  _daily_ regarding the whereabouts of either of you. I am not involved in this Dean - quite frankly it rather disgusts me. Now would you do me the honour of damn well taking your  _bloody_ seat, sitting down and shutting up!"

"Wait," Dean says, latching onto something Crowley said, "Cas asked about me?"

Crowley grits his teeth and closes his eyes, snapping his neck from side to side. "Mr Novak emailed me this morning. He asked me to tell you that he no longer wishes to be your tutor, and then went on to say that he won't be attending class this afternoon." Crowley growls a little, and it takes Dean by surprise. "Whatever you did to him, Dean - I hope you're pleased with yourself. He was my top student. Never missed a class. The only reason I am even bothering to tell you this is because Castiel has actually managed to earn my respect in the short time I've known him. Now damn well take your  _seat._ "

Dean's shoulders slump, and he begrudgingly does as he's asked, ignoring the spiteful whispers aimed at him by the more stupid of his classmates. For fuck's sake, he's still the Alpha of Psi Delta Alpha - he can inflict punishments on whoever he wants. These people are essentially signing their own death warrants. He makes sure to stare them all down one by one, because clearly they've forgotten who they're dealing with. 

It works, just about - they look away, shame-faced and slightly red. But Dean is losing his credibility, he knows. It's just a matter of time. 

Does it really matter though? 

Whatever happiness he gleaned out of being a feared and respected Alpha went out the window as soon as Cas entered his life. Now the only person he cares about getting any respect from is Cas himself. Sighing, he flips open his textbook, and faces the front, ready to attempt to concentrate on Crowley and his stupid, boring, 'Olde English' way of teaching. Who the fuck writes in  _cursive_ anymore? Where are the PowerPoints? The cool goggles that all the kids wear in the prospectus? 

He remembers being actually kind of excited to do BioChem when he started here. More excited about Football obviously, but he likes learning stuff. As long as it's explained properly, and he understands.

"Dean!" Crowley yells, interrupting his maudlin thoughts, and Dean sits up a little straighter. 

"Yeah?"

"Please close your textbook. We have started Biology."

Oh, Dean thinks, feeling stupid yet again in this god damn Hell of a class. So he's behind again. Just as he thought he was getting on with Chemistry too. This is not a good start to the day.

* * *

 

On his way out of the classroom, Dean holds his breath, crosses his fingers, and waits till the very last moment to look down at the spot beside the door. The spot Cas usually sits in, the place where Dean saw him for the very first time. 

He's not there. Dean didn't really expect him to be, not really. But that's not to say he wasn't hoping for it. 

He finds himself leaning against the wall in that spot, letting his brothers pass by him one by one. They all nod to him and tell him to come along, but Dean shakes his head. He's at a loss now, though he doesn't want to admit it. He needs to be alone. 

They all filter out of the hallway, as do all the other students lurking around. Dean watches as Cas's classmates pour in to the class he just came out of, Meg amongst them, winking and fluttering her fingers flirtatiously. Dean ignores her, and she pouts, heading into the class.

Dean slumps down against the wall, sitting with his back against it, and he realises why Cas likes it down here. It's quiet - all the students are in lesson, it's just him and the empty hall. He's low to the ground, so none of the janitors or occasional hurrying professors strolling by notice him particularly, they just wander past, oblivious to Dean's despair. 

Cas doesn't want to be found. But he  _really_ doesn't want to be found. At least not by Dean. 

A few days ago, Dean had hidden himself from Cas, due to embarrassment at drunkenly trying it on with him, along with cowardice, because he thought he was going to have to break it off and he couldn't face it. But he only hid in the Football Stadium, and Cas found him there after a while. He's searched everywhere for Cas, but the kid is clearly trying to avoid him, and who can blame him? Dean was so awful to him.

The best thing for him is probably to move on. 

Except that Dean... he keeps replaying the conversations he's had with everyone since the big argument with Cas. Anna and Sam and Gabriel - they all said basically the same thing. Dean needs to get his head out of his ass and apologise, to win Cas back or... or he'll never have a chance at being happy. At least not for a long, long time. Possibly ever. 

No one has ever made him feel like Cas does, no one has managed to inspire that kind of hope or joy or pure emotion in him. It's something that can't be replicated. Cas is one of a kind. And Dean  _had_ him. And he let him go. More like shoved him away, really. 

So he has to try. He'll try until he's physically beaten down, until he can't go on, until he's killing himself with his attempts. 

Cas is basically the only thing in his whole world that is worth anything. He's the only person who can save Dean, and he doesn't even need to do anything. Dean used to think that person was Sam, but now he realises it's the other way around - he's the one saving Sammy. From Dad, from being stuck in that nowhere land where they grew up. And yes, Sammy is incredible, and Dean loves him and would protect him to the end but... in terms of what he's getting from Sam... well, the kid's right. There are just some things a brother can't do. 

So what now, Dean thinks. He has no ideas, no more clues about where Cas might be hiding himself. He's hit a dead end. He may as well just stay here in this spot, set up camp until Cas actually shows up to class. It could be kinda romantic - like that song by The Script. 

Just then, his phone buzzes. He fishes it out in a frenzy of motion, his hands scrabbling, not able to look fast enough - what if it's Cas? He swipes the screen urgently, whispering "come on, come on" under his breath as it loads. 

 **Jo Harvelle**  
Hey Dean, look I was planning  
on ignoring you until you came  
back in and saw me and Mom   
again but that's out the window.  
I need you to come pick up your  
friend. 

Dean's brow creases. What? What the Hell is she talking about - what friend?

 **Dean Winchester**  
Yeah, sorry I haven't been around  
in a while. Been busy. What   
are you talking about? 

 **Jo Harvelle**  
Save your apologies. Just get your  
ass in here now and again like  
you used to! That guy you came  
in with that time? Very dreamy,  
blue eyes, black hair - looks  
like he was only recently sent   
to earth and is still figuring out  
humanity. 

Dean's brain short circuits. Cas?! Cas is there! At The Roadhouse?! Dean can barely keep still, he's too excited. He jumps to his feet, not sure where he's going, just knowing he needs to move. 

 **Dean Winchester**  
Omg - whatever you do, do not  
let him leave. I am on my way.

 **Jo Harvelle**  
I doubt that'll be a problem. See  
you in a few.

Dean is halfway out of the building before Jo's words sink properly into his brain. He hates himself for needing to stop, but this is important. What is Jo implying? HE skids to a halt, the automatic doors opening in front of him in confusion.

 **Dean Winchester  
** What do you mean?

 **Jo Harvelle**  
I mean he's not going anywhere  
if last night is anything to go by.

 **Dean Winchester  
** Last night?!

Dean wishes Jo would just hurry up and tell him what the fuck she's talking about already - is Cas in trouble? He starts walking again, striding out of the Sciences Building, turning right beside the weird graveyard right smack bang in the middle of campus. 

His phone buzzes after a while, and Dean looks at it warily, slightly dreading what Jo might tell him. 

 **Jo Harvelle**  
So your little buddy came in around  
3 - Mom served him cos he came in  
with you before. Plus he looks like  
a harmless kitten. He kept ordering   
drinks tho, and me and mom weren't  
rly keeping track cos it was busy...  
He stayed till after closing. He was so  
drunk he couldn't walk - we had to force  
him to call some guy (I think he was  
from your Frat actually) and take him  
home. 

That would be Gabriel then, Dean thinks, starting to feel annoyance creeping under his skin, but then he realises that this would have all taken place well after he and Gabe had their little chat. He has no reason to be annoyed at the guy. God, Cas seems really messed up. The Cas Dean thinks of is a quiet, meek little sweetheart. Sure he likes the odd tequila shot, but he would never sit in a bar and drink himself under the table. 

 **Dean Winchester  
** And he's there again now? 

 **Jo Harvelle  
** Yup. Third beer. 

Dean sucks in a breath and checks the time on the top of his screen. 16:48pm. Jeez, he thinks, eyes bugging out a little. Cas is sure on a roll. Is this what he's doing instead of coming to class? 

Dean tries to suppress the tsunami of guilt that cascades over him, but he can't help it engulfing him a little. He did this to Cas - that's why Cas is even behaving this way. God, how is he ever going to get this guy to forgive him?

 **Dean Winchester**  
I'll be there in ten.

Dean, determined now, shoves his phone into his jeans pocket and rams his icy hands into the pockets of his Letterman. Right, he thinks, The Roadhouse. He's probably going to get shot down in flames for even showing up anywhere near Cas - but he'll be damned if he doesn't try. 

* * *

 

Pushing open the Roadhouse doors is nostalgic for Dean. He's done it so often - more frequently in his first and second years - and every single time, the place looks the same. He wouldn't have it any other way. The Roadhouse is warm and inviting, always, like a cosy home. The people in there are familiar and know him, they call to him, high five him, smile at him warmly. He's one of the crowd here, he's welcome. 

He forgets sometimes, how much he loves this place. 

With all the drama of his shitty life, it can be easy to overlook the good things, Dean muses. 

This time, after pushing open the doors, Dean doesn't stop, doesn't linger in the doorway or look around to breathe in the dé ja vu. Instead his mind is narrowed, singular - ignoring everything else and focusing on one specific detail. Because he knows Cas is in here, and everything else is just irrelevant. 

He's not going to pretend, even to himself, that this is a randomly chosen spot for Cas to come and drink on a Tuesday night. Dean knows why Cas chose here, The Roadhouse, out of all the places he could have gone - and it's not for the cheap prices, or the lively atmosphere, or even the fact that getting served here might be easier than elsewhere. 

No. This place has  _romantic_ connotations for Cas, of all things. To Cas, it's the spot of his and Dean's first date, of their first tryst, and it kills Dean a little if he thinks about that for too long. Because to Dean, at the time, it was just a convenient place to bring Cas - he knew that even if they were caught fucking in the bathroom, Ellen probably wouldn't kick them out, and at least not forever. Sure he liked Cas on that first dinner, maybe even liked him more than he'd liked anyone for a long time, but he didn't know it would turn into  _this._ Into pining, and overwhelming guilt and the feeling he can never ever be truly happy again unless he makes that damn angel smile once more. Or maybe more than once. 

Either way, as a result, he knows exactly where Cas will be. He enters the room, leaving high-fives hanging in the air, brushing people off as they come up to him, excited to see him after so long. He pushes past people he's known for years on his way to the back, his neck craning over the swarms of people, so vapid and unimportant to him now - he's seen the other side. He knows something far better. 

He does vaguely notice that some the people in the restaurant sort of... side-eye him as he wades through the maze of tables. Not as many people call to him as normal, not that Dean remotely cares. It's all a big popularity contest round here, nothing but extended high school - and now that there are rumours floating around about him and a Freshman... he's been knocked off the top of the A list. 

Well, there's the rumours and then there's... what happened on Sunday. The more football-oriented people of the college aren't generally too happy about that.

He doesn't bother with any of them, and finally, at long last he makes it to the row of booths lined up against the back wall. Somehow, staring into his usual booth, he's still unprepared for the sight. 

Cas is a shell of himself. His shirt sleeves hang loose and unbuttoned, exposing his bony, fragile wrists. Dean winces when he sees the faint imprints of bruising around them. The boy is hunched forwards, his fingers loosely grasping a bottle of beer, which, as Dean watches, he brings shakily to his lips to sip. His hair is mussed and unbrushed, his eyes are rimmed with dark shadows, as though he hasn't slept all night. He's beautiful, utterly enchanting in a dark, brooding sort of way, but that's hardly surprising. The kid's always been gorgeous. 

Dean finds himself frozen to the spot. He's a few paces away, and Cas hasn't noticed him yet. He just stares blankly forwards, sort of at the space Dean would be sitting, were he there. 

_I did this._

It's the one thought that drives itself into Dean's skull over and over as he watches, numb and incapable of movement. He set this up right from the start. Cas was pure. He was innocent,  _virginal_ even, and Dean took everything from him. Cas is completely right. Everything he said, everything he  _screamed_ at Dean on Sunday is true. He pulled Cas into a darkened, forbidden classroom when he met him and didn't even give him a choice. Cas was his toy, his plaything from the start, and then he broke him, discarded him like it was nothing. 

And look what it's done to him. 

"Pretty bleak, huh?" 

It's Jo, sidled up next to him without a sound, and Dean nearly jumps out of his skin. He looks down at her, taking in her long hair, loose around her shoulders, her cute red apron, her folded arms. Suddenly he's filled with guilt again, another surge, and wishes he could rip the navy panties off his wall and hand them back to the girl beside him - the one who deserved so much more respect. 

Instead, he sighs. He'll apologise to Jo someday, but today he has something bigger to deal with. "I did this, Jo."

She looks up at him, surprised, her eyebrows raised. She pauses for a long moment, and then sticks her lower lip out, nodding. "Well. Seems like you need to go fix it then."

Dean huffs a small laugh. That's Jo for you - straight to the point. Everything's so simple with her, he'd forgotten how nice that is. Being direct is an art, and Jo is brilliant at it. He'd forgotten how much he likes her. 

He nods in reply, still smiling a little. "Yeah." He agrees. "Yeah, I should."

He starts forwards then, spurred on by something he was unaware he even possessed. He steps away from Jo, closing the distance between him and Cas in three short strides. He takes a breath, closes his eyes briefly, and slides into the booth. Opposite Cas. 

Dean expects a lot of things. He expects anger above all else - for Cas to hit out at him, to spit cruel words in his direction, to yell, to scream or to try and storm away... but none of this happens. 

Next on Dean's list of expected emotions is sadness. This is the one he was dreading most, because he's never been good with consolation, and he never knows what to say when someone is crying unless that someone is Sam. Cas probably wouldn't have taken too kindly to being told that if he keeps his chin up, Dean will nick him a pack of smarties. 

Cas doesn't cry though, he doesn't yell or say anything at all. He just stares at Dean blankly, the same way he was staring at the empty bench before Dean slid into it. He looks tired, and exhausted, and so fucking done. 

Dean fidgets awkwardly, not knowing what to say. Even 'Hi' seems cliché right now. Instead, he turns to Jo, who is still standing a few paces away, watching the scene with fascination. "Hey Jo, could we get two shots of tequila please? An' keep 'em comin'."

She rolls her eyes, but walks away to do as he asked. 

"I'm not really in the mood." 

Dean almost jumps out of his skin at the sound of Cas's voice. He thought he'd have to work way harder to get the kid to talk to him. Okay, he thinks, staring at Cas as though he were a wild animal that might make a break for it at any moment. Proceed with caution.

"Ah," Dean says shakily, giving a weak smile, "humour me."

Cas doesn't react. He brings the beer to his lips again, taking another sip. "What do you want, Dean?"

The question almost stumps him. Is there a hidden meaning? Surely Cas knows! How could he not know? Dean leans forwards a little, and like clockwork, Cas immediately leans back. 

"Cas, I want to apologise." Dean says, and he tries to maintain eye contact with the guy, but Cas's eyes keep flicking away. He keeps his expression sincere, his voice grave. Cas has to know he means this. "I want to tell you how stupid, and selfish and  _wrong_ I was - to treat you like that, to- to ever do anything to hurt you." Cas's eyes meet his, and they're practically lifeless - they've lost their glow. "I am so sorry, Castiel."

Cas eyes glisten, and he takes a sip of beer. "So?"

Dean stutters to a halt. So? What does that mean? 

"So I'm gonna make it right, Cas, I'm gonna-" 

Dean breaks off when two shot glasses are slammed down on the table before them both. He looks up into Jo's face, and she raises her eyebrows at him. "Alright guys, here's the deal." She reaches into the pocket of her apron for something, and pulls out a bottle of tequila, setting it down on the table as well. "Mom's convinced you two need alcohol to work out your differences - she's old fashioned like that." Jo stares at Dean. "Especially you Dean. She says your defences are sky high and only hard liquor can bring them down." Dean huffs a shocked little laugh. "So basically," Jo finishes, "don't tell the other customers, and try not to kill yourselves, alright?"

Jo straightens up, and Dean stares, open-mouthed, at the bottle in front of him. "Thanks Jo." He grins. "And thank your Mom too, would ya?"

"Yes, do thank Ellen." Cas says out of nowhere, his hand unwrapping itself from his beer and winding around the tequila bottle instead. He brings it close to his face for inspection. "I do have a particular fondness for tequila."

Jo snorts, and rolls her eyes, but nods and sashays away. 

Dean stares at Cas. "Hold up, you know Ellen now?"

Cas places the bottle back between them coolly, lifting his eyes to Dean's with nonchalance. "Yes. We bonded over how infuriating we find you."

Dean is silent for a moment, his eyebrows lifting, and then he laughs a little. "Yeah, I can believe that." 

He leans back in his seat, and as he does so, he swears he sees the barest hint of a smile reach Cas's face. Out of nowhere, Cas sighs deeply, and that exhaustion is back in his expression, sucking the life right out of him.

"So, what happens now, Dean?" Castiel asks, hand reaching for the shot glass before him, playing with it idly. "D'you think this is gonna play out like last time?" Dean's brow creases in confusion, and Cas smirks a little, but it looks cruel, jarring on his sweet, pink lips. "Hey, I'm already halfway there - I've had three beers. Shall I go wait in the bathroom? I'll take my pants off, bend over the sinks and you can just come in whenever and-"

"Okay, enough!" Dean butts in loudly, holding his hands up in surrender. He feels sick, but he swallows the bile down. "You made your point, alright?" Cas looks cruelly satisfied, and he leans back in his seat too, folding his arms over his chest. It's not the smugness on his face that gets to Dean though, it's the despair. "Look, Cas, I know you don't believe me when I'm tellin' you how sorry I am for treatin' you like a- a- like a goddamn plaything, but I am." Cas scoffs, rolling his eyes, but Dean doesn't let it deter him. He has to get through to Cas, he has to, and no matter what Cas says, no matter how deeply the words cut into him, he's got to keep going. Dean leans forwards again, his expression pleading. "Cas, give me one shot - one chance to make it up to you. Right now, make or break. Please."

Cas stays quiet for a long time, to the point where Dean thinks he's not going to reply. He sighs, and starts to sit up, thinking that maybe he should just go, that maybe he's making the situation worse, but then Cas answers.

"How on earth would you do that?"

Dean can't help it, he smiles. Cas just glares at him, but he apparently can't suppress the curiosity in his expression, because it's there, Dean can see it. Cas wants Dean to try, wants to be able to give him this second shot, and that must mean there's still something there, still feelings behind all the hurt and hatred. 

"I have a proposition for you." Dean replies, still smiling a little, but it slips when Cas blushes bright pink. 

"No, thank you." The younger boy mumbles, and Dean is confused, until he thinks about what all his other propositions have entailed. Then he ducks his head, smiling a little at the notion. 

"Nah, not that kind of proposition." Dean says, unable to help the chuckle that escapes; he can't help but think it's a mildly good sign that Cas blushed so hard at the thought of it though - at least the attraction is still there, if nothing else. "A drinking contest!"

Now, Dean only has a vague idea of how this is going to go, and he's more or less making it up as he goes, but hey - he did say he was going to think on his feet when the time came right? And right now this seems like as good of an idea as any.

One of Cas's eyebrows raise. "Are you kidding?"

"Nope." Dean says, hand on his heart. "Let me lay out the rules for you - I'm not gonna force you Cas-"

"For once." Cas mutters, and he doesn't even look away as those words stab into Dean's heart. 

 _I deserve it, I deserve it,_ thinks Dean. 

He's just hurting, Dean tells himself, forcing the breaths to come steadily. He doesn't mean it anyway, he knows I didn't force him to do anything, Dean thinks. He always had a safe word. He did. 

Dean calms himself, and ploughs on. Cas looks a little impressed. "Okay, so the game goes like this." Dean picks up the bottle of tequila and pours them both a shot. "Someone goes first, takes a shot. As long as they keep it down, and are fully okay with taking the shot in the first place - the other person has to admit something. Then the other person goes, and the first person has to admit something and yadda yadda - the game goes on merrily. Capiche?"

Cas rolls his eyes. "I'm not so sure about the rules." Cas's voice is lazy, confident, and it makes Dean nervous. This is not the person he's been used to lately. "I didn't do anything wrong here. Why do I have to admit things too?" 

Dean senses an undercurrent of pain in Cas's tone, and thinks fast to rectify the situation. "You're right, you shouldn't have to. If you don't want to, don't." Dean pauses, looking down at his brimming shot glass. Is this all a terrible mistake? "It's just... more fun that way I guess."

Cas sighs. "Fine. But don't think I'm gonna admit anything good."

Dean lifts his eyes to Cas's, surprised. He grins, he can't help it. "Really? Awesome." He decides to plough on with the game before Cas changes his mind. "Who do you want to go first?"

"Oh, you are." Cas says simply, and really Dean should have expected this answer. But then he remembers the rules. 

"Wait, so you want me to take the first shot?"

"That's what I said." Cas says coolly.

Huh, Dean thinks, slightly impressed - so Cas is gonna be the first one to admit something. Kudos to the guy, he's got balls. Although Dean isn't expecting anything shocking out of him just yet. 

Dean picks up his shot glass and brings it carefully to his lips, not wanting to spill a drop. The tequila burns on the way down, but he relishes it - he's been sober so far in this horrifying conversation. Ellen was right, he needs alcohol. He places the glass back down and looks at Cas cautiously. Does he need reminding, or...?

"I don't like ice cream." Cas says boldly, calm as anything.

Dean decides to try his luck a little, and fakes a flabbergasted reaction. "What?! Well that is simply abhorrent. How do you live with yourself, Castiel?"

There's a flicker of a smile on Cas's lips before he looks away, Dean knows he saw it. "I believe it's your turn, Dean."

Ah, that's right, Dean thinks. The back of his neck prickles a little, and he gulps. Time to get real. Okay, this is where honesty matters, and the mere arrangement of his words could set his whole world crumbling, or give him back something he will never find the equal of in a thousand lifetimes. 

Cas swoops up his shot glass, smirking slightly, and with the ruffled black hair and the slight mischievous expression on his face, Dean can't help but think he looks pretty hot. Cas knocks the tequila back like the seasoned drinker he apparently is, and meets Dean's eyes over the rim, clearly on the edge of his seat for whatever Dean will be admitting.

He slams the empty glass back on the table, his lips slightly moistened. Dean looks away fast. This is not the time for inappropriate thoughts. The taste of this tequila however... it's bringing back certain memories.

"Okay," Dean says in a rush of breath, and he forces himself to look at Cas as he says this, "so, when I first um- when I first saw you? I- damn, I thought you'd literally fallen out of the sky. It wasn't outside the lab either... I lied about that kinda. I mean, I did used to see you there all the time, but the first time... the first time I saw you was outside the Sciences Building. You were looking out at that creepy ass graveyard? I always thought it was super weird havin' it there, but you- you were just looking out at it, over the fence, and you just looked so peaceful. And I never saw it the same way."

Dean pauses for a second, trying in vain to gauge Cas's reaction. Cas is just passive, staring, waiting for him to finish. Dean sighs and continues on.

"Nobody really even saw you there except for me." Dean says, his brow creasing as he remembers. He looks down at his hands, playing with the shot glass on the table. "You were just standing there, lost in thought. I didn't even realise I was standing there watching you until it started to rain. And then you left, and I thought I might never see you again." Dean looks up again, and this time he smirks. "But there you were, every Tuesday and Thursday outside my lab. Sometimes I'd..." Dean trails off, chuckling a little, because he was planning on not revealing this part. "I'd skip class and just watch you wait, see you mouth along to your music, or scribble something down on your notepad. I used to watch you and  _wish,_ just wish I had something that good."

When Dean finishes speaking, there's a bit of an awkward silence. He looks into Cas's eyes, hoping he might find some sort of emotion in them, but Cas's face remains neutral. He nods, and Dean realises this is his response. 

"Uh," Dean says, blushing a little, "okay, I need a drink - you good to go?"

Cas nods; his mind seems to be slightly elsewhere. Dean picks up his shot and knocks it back Cas-style. It feels good, he can feel himself growing looser. 

"I stole one of your hoodies."

Dean raises his eyebrows in surprise at Cas's confession. The guy's actually blushing a little. Then Dean frowns. "Wait, no you didn't." 

Cas nods, looking guilty. It's beyond adorable, but Dean has to clear this up. 

"No," Dean protests, "Cas I gave you my hoodie. After the party, I remember. You can keep it, it's cool. You didn't steal it."

Cas is shaking his head, and Dean looks at him, perplexed.

"Not that hoodie." Cas says awkwardly, and Dean's eyebrows shoot up again. He smirks. 

"Well, well." Dean replies, grinning. "Is that so?"

Cas rolls his eyes. "Yes. It's your..." Cas's eyes flick up to him, mildly embarrassed. "Psi Delta Alpha hoodie. It's maroon coloured."

Dean barks a laugh. "Man, I was lookin' for that!" 

"It was that time after I... was mistaken for a Pledge." Cas explains, and Dean laughs harder. "I... got a little carried away removing my shirt and... needed something to cover me on my way home." 

"Oh my God," Dean says, remembering, "I completely forgot about that - you ripped all the buttons off your shirt! Aw man, I totally would've given you something, you should've said." 

Cas looks awkward then, and his faint smile disappears. Dean thinks about it, wondering why. He tries to remember what happened after they had sex that time... Yeah, he definitely didn't stick around. Cas probably had no way of asking him. God this is messy. Okay, he thinks, keep going. 

Cas is way ahead of him apparently, having already picked up his shot, placing it between his lips. He downs it easily, and Dean gulps again, his stomach flipping as he thinks of the next 'admission'. 

"Alright," Dean says reluctantly; he was planning on whipping this one out later in the game, but he can't think of a substitute so it will have to do, "well, I'm sure you're aware that I've... uh, 'gotten around', as the saying goes." Dean wishes he had more alcohol. He can't even look at Cas just yet. "I mean - I'm a dick about it, generally speaking. You've seen the panty wall, right?" He makes the mistake of looking up at Cas, who is actually glaring. Best to briskly move onto the point with this one, Dean tells himself. "Well all that is mostly because I never... saw what the big deal was. With sex, I mean. It just seemed like somethin' fun to do, and I got a ton of respect for doin' it so..."

Dean breaks off. Yeah, he can't say this next part without another shot. He lifts up the tequila bottle and pours some into his glass. Cas looks confused, but Dean explains. 

"Sorry, I just need this for what I'm about to say - count it as my next one if you want." Dean gulps it down, and sure enough, it takes the edge off. "Right, where was I? Oh yeah, so I never got what the big deal was. With anyone." Dean takes a breath, and looks into Cas's eyes. It takes all he's got to maintain that eye contact, seriously. "But with you, Cas... I get it now. You're the only person I've ever felt anything with during... y'know. And it messed me up. I didn't- God, I didn't realise what I was missin'."

Dean chews his lip nervously. The silence between them stretches out again, but this time, Cas breaks it. "Is that... honestly true?"

He looks disbelieving still. Dean leans forwards again, and this time Cas doesn't lean away. "Yeah, Cas. I swear." He says, and Cas takes a shuddering breath in. "Think about it, man. I know I wasn't that good at hidin' it."

Flashes of all the moments his walls broke down around Cas blink through Dean's mind. The most poignant for Dean is at the Halloween party, when he practically lost his mind. Seeing Cas laid out before him, offering him everything, giving himself over to Dean despite being the most glorious, sublime creature to ever grace this earth - it was too much for him. He let out snippets of his reverence at Cas's body, of possessiveness - claiming Cas in all ways he could, even getting Cas himself to admit he belonged to Dean. He just couldn't control his emotions. 

Cas nods very slightly, and seems to lean back, thinking and gnawing on his fingernail. After a while, he stops and turns back to Dean, his neutral expression back in place - God, Dean wishes he hadn't subconsciously taught this guy about defence mechanisms. 

"You were my first kiss." 

Oh, fuck it all. Dean is so,  _so_ going to Hell. He not only sodomised and de-virginised this chaste, elfin, perfect specimen - he also took his first kiss. Not only that, he then  _denied_ him all further kisses, saying that he wanted a sex-only deal. He sinks down in his bench, unable to process.

"Is it even your turn?" Dean manages to say, his voice weakened.

"You said I could count the extra shot you took during your go as a turn."

Dean nods slightly, remembering. Suddenly, he sits up, leaning forwards, getting as close to Cas as he dares. "Do you mean that, Cas? I was your first  _kiss?_ What are we talking about here... in the friggin  _Physics lab_?!"

Castiel stares back, studying Dean's pained expression. "Did you imagine my first kiss as being something different?"

Dean buries his head in his hands. "Well, I bet you did."

Castiel shrugs, and Dean sees it through the fan of his fingers. He straightens up, using the shrug as a shred of hope that Cas might actually be  _okay_ with this somehow. A guy can dream, right?

"I actually don't count that one as my first kiss." Castiel says, looking at his fingers, acting disinterested. "I prefer to think of it as... a different time."

Dean's mind flicks through memories like a flip book, trying to find the right page. He lands on it just as Cas looks up at him. "Truth or Dare? In my room?"

Cas doesn't verbally confirm it, but his eyes flick away, and Dean knows he's right. 

"Fuck, Cas..." Dean trails off, not knowing how to start with this one. "If I'd known... I never would've-"

"Oh don't be so dramatic." Cas interrupts, rolling his eyes for the thousandth time. "I was there, wasn't I? I could've swerved away, could've pushed you off- but I didn't. I wanted to kiss you." He fidgets awkwardly. "You know, at the time."

Dean is about to protest further, but then he thinks of something. And it makes him angry, irrationally so. "Wait a minute." Dean can't stop himself saying. "What about Balthazar? You kissed him before you kissed me in that game!"

Cas raises his eyebrows, and then he snorts in disbelief, and what looks like anger. "Seriously?" Cas cries. "Are you really going to sit there and accuse me of being reckless about who I kiss and when?" Dean's retort dies in his throat. Oh shit, yeah, give up now - he's so not gonna win this one. Too bad Cas is already on the way to hanging him out to dry. Idiot, Dean chastises himself, why did he bring this up? "You claim to never involve kissing in any of your physical relationships, you knock me round the head  _twice_ with kisses, leaving me not knowing which way is fucking up - and then I  _see_ you Dean, I see you with your tongue down a cheerleader's throat!"

Dean holds his hands up, surrendering. "Look, Cas, it's not what you-"

"I don't give a fuck about your excuses." Cas snaps bitterly. "If you're gonna act all high and mighty about me giving my first kiss to Balthazar - which for the record was sucky and something I don't even count as a kiss - while you have a harem of colourfully underweared girls behind you that you may or may not have kissed as some tacky ploy to get their knickers on your wall, I'm going home. This was a huge fucking mistake."

Dean allows Cas to lay into him, he lets every word go, knowing he deserves worse, but when he catches the end of that sentence, his mouth falls open. "No, Cas wait!" Cas has stood up, and he's clumsily digging into his jeans for some dollar bills. His face is set and grim, so Dean jumps up and catches his arm. Cas pulls away from him, scowling. "Cas please," Dean cries, exasperated, "I can explain about the kissing thing too - it can be my next turn. You just gotta take a shot. Please don't go, Cas." Cas hesitates, eyes narrowed at Dean's expression. "Please."

There's a drawn out moment, a battle of wills, where neither of them move. And then Cas sighs. He rolls his eyes again, but sits down, filling both shot glasses and downing both. "Spill."

Dean nods, knowing he has to make this one count. "Okay so, I do have this rule." Dean begins, and Cas immediately rolls his eyes, so Dean speaks quickly. "I have a dickish, stupid-ass rule about no kissing during hook-ups because then the girl-" Dean breaks off, looking at Cas apologetically. "Sorry. It was usually a girl. She'd get her emotions involved and she'd cry and want more than I could give her. It was a nightmare." Dean chuckles a little, remembering some of the crazier girls, and then stops abruptly at the sight of Cas's glare. "Sorry. So anyway, I saw you and I decided I had to have you, at least once, cause man - I was so infatuated with you. I couldn't get you off my mind." 

"But you kissed me!" Cas interrupts, frustrated. "Right at the start!"

"I know," Dean admits, and it seems to calm Cas a little to hear that. "I had you in that classroom, and we were all alone, and you were even more perfect up close than I could've imagined." Dean bites his lip, remembering it, and shifts a little when he feels his pants tighten. Not the time. "You were so innocent, and nervous and clueless - I don't think I could have stopped myself if I wanted to." 

"You told me I could kiss you too." Cas says quietly.

"I did. I dunno, it was like all my usual careful planning and processes went out the window with you there." Dean says, shaking his head. "All I could think about was you kissing me, and how excited it got you just thinkin' about it." Cas blushes then, and Dean smiles - he can't help himself. "Later o'course, I was much harder on myself, told myself I can't let myself get so carried away just cause you're the cutest damn thing I've seen since... well, ever."

Cas blushes again, and this time he ducks his head, trying to hide it. "So..." Dean sighs. "I tried. I tried damn hard to stop myself from kissin' you again, and it pretty much worked. Until Halloween." By this point Cas is almost scarlet, and Dean can't hide his grin - he's missed this. He leans forwards, and, feeling daring, he reaches out a finger to touch Cas's, which is circling the rim of his shot glass. Cas jumps as though a spark flies between them, and then just stares at their barely touching skin. "Do you even know how crazy you got me that night, Cas?" Dean asks, and his voice is much quieter now, much lower. "I was goin' outta my mind. When I saw you kissin' that douche, watchin' those girls pour drinks on you... I couldn't help myself. I had to claim you, I had to let everyone know you were untouchable."

"So you kissed me." Cas whispers, and Dean nods. His finger moves slightly against Cas's, just barely. 

"I kissed you, yeah." Dean leans back a little, slowly. He smirks. "Amongst other things."

Castiel sits up straight then, steadfastly ignoring the redness of his cheeks, and staring at Dean across the table, as coolly as he can. "Okay." Cas says, a little shakily. "What about the girl?"

Dean looks confused for a moment, and then he remembers. He looks down at the table, ashamed. This one isn't a good explanation. "Ah." He says. "Anna Milton."

"Luke Milton's sister?" Castiel asks, his head cocked to one side. Like a little sparrow, Dean likens, adorable. 

"Uh huh." Dean confirms, not dwelling on that point because if anything it makes him look even worse. Making out with your best friend's sister? Not cool in anyone's books. "So I was... pretty pessimistic about you and me on Sunday. I'd just had a... bad visit with my Dad, and then I went to see you and..." Dean trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"I remember." Castiel says, saving him from reliving it. 

"So yeah, I was thinkin' pretty much that we'd need to call it off."

"Why?"

Dean looks at Cas sadly. "Because Cas. This is my life." Cas looks confused, and Dean doesn't blame him. "You think that this is a one off thing? Pain and Dean Winchester go hand in hand. My life is a long river of crap - and I've already soiled you enough. It's not fair to drag you into my shitty world, you deserve so much better than that."

Cas seems to mull that over for a while, his brow still creased in confusion. Dean reasons that he's probably thinking about John and Sam, trying to work out why Dean's world is so awful. He has no idea though, no matter what source he's getting his information from. He has no idea how bad it really is, and - realistically - that's the way it should stay. 

"If you really believe that," Cas says cautiously, as though he's choosing his words carefully, "why are you here?"

Dean huffs a small laugh. "Your guess is as good as mine, man." Dean says, and he pours out two more shots for them. "I'd say it's because I've got this crazy, wild hope," Dean downs one of the shots, "that you might like me anyway."

Dean smiles at him across the table. He knows his eyes are filled with a quiet kind of sadness, and that's probably the only reason why Cas smiles back. 

"Anna?" Cas prompts, pinching the shot between his fingers, but not taking it yet. 

"Right." Dean says, and he feels a little light-headed suddenly. How many shots is that now? How is Cas still standing? Didn't he have three beers? "So I was thinkin' we shouldn't be together, and I knew that the kissing thing would be a dick move considering... how I made it a big thing with us." For a moment, Cas looks like he wants to hurl his shot into Dean's face. Luckily, the moment passes. "I just had to find a girl, and... Anna's a friend. We've got a slight history..." Dean waves his hand vaguely in the air. 

"Which panties are hers?" Cas asks, taking his shot, and Dean is about to be annoyed, but then Cas puts down the glass, and there's a smirk on his lips. 

Dean grins back. "The pink ones." 

Cas nods, wrinkling his nose. "Ew."

"Aw, I think you'd look cute in them." Dean says with a smile, and he almost wants to staple his runaway mouth shut. He's supposed to be  _apologising._ Stop making suggestive comments!, he warns himself.

Cas's mouth has fallen open, and he kicks Dean under the table. "You're lucky I'm letting that one slide, Winchester." 

Dean rubs his shin with a laugh, nodding in acquiescence. "Yeah, I deserved that. Who's turn is it?"

"It's your turn to drink, my turn to go." Castiel answers, pouring them both another shot. Neither of them mention the fact they have also started drinking the shots in between go's. "Down this."

"Yes sir." Dean obeys, and knocks back the shot, finding himself needing to blink rapidly a few times after. "Your admission, if you please?"

Cas leans forwards, his chin resting in his hand. "Hmm." He says, and Dean chuckles. 

"Out of ideas?"

Cas scoffs. "Aren't you?"

Dean shakes his head, smiling away, though the butterflies in his stomach have started dancing the lambada. 

"Really?!" Cas asks, shocked. He sits up, studying Dean's face for hints of lies. He slumps slightly when he finds none. "Kudos, Dean - you came prepared."

Dean gulps, but he knows he has to do this. It's make or break time. He always planned his final admission to be the end of the game, and it's either going to go one way or another here. Might as well get it over with.

"Tell you what," Dean says, his voice shaky - so much that Cas catches on, looking confused, "I'll do you a deal. I'll do one more admission. You don't have to do yours, but afterwards, you have to say if you think there's a chance. For us."

Castiel looks away, any hints of happiness on his face falling away. "Dean..."

Dean catches hold of one of his hands, still on the table between them. His fingers are warm and familiar - it makes Dean want to cry. "No Cas, please. C'mon." Dean urges, and Cas catches his eye again, but his eyes are glistening. "Enough games. I'm dyin' here, and I think you are too. We can't stay in this weird purgatory between being together and not, and it's gotta be you that decides. I'm not in charge anymore, Cas." Two tears slip down Cas's cheeks, and Dean's heart lurches. He doesn't move though. "Need you to do this, angel."

Cas nods, his lips pressed together. He looks away, but he doesn't move his hand. "Okay."

Dean nods, and after a moment, swallows. He releases Cas's hand slowly, but Cas keeps hold, so Dean doesn't try to take it away. "You gonna take your shot, Cas?"

A deep breath comes from the boy in front of him, and he picks up the shot glass just as Dean fills it. He swallows it down, placing the empty shell back on the table, and turns towards Dean, but keeps his eyes away. 

"Right then. Here goes." Dean says, and for effect, he squeezes Cas's hand. "When I was growin' up, Sammy was the only thing that mattered to me. I know you know a bit about him, but you prob'ly don't know the real stuff." Dean smiles. "Like that he's terrified of clowns. There was this lady who looked after us for a while - she lived across the street - and she took me and Sam to a fairground when we were little, Sammy was five, I was ten. He rode on my back the whole way round, buried his face in my collar cause he was so scared. I told every damn clown we saw to back the Hell off, threatened 'em with my imaginary knife collection and yelled at them all, just so Sammy wouldn't be scared." Dean chuckles, remembering it fondly. "I think that's the last time that woman babysat us." 

Cas smiles, and lifts his eyes to Dean's. "That's sweet of you. Gabriel would have paid one of clowns to scare me."

Dean laughs loudly, maybe due to the nerves. "Sounds like him." 

"Sorry, please continue." Cas says, and Dean quirks another timid smile. 

"Anyway, the point is, I was the big brother, sure, but I was also kinda the Dad, and maybe kinda the Mom too for Sam." Dean can't hold Cas's eyes anymore, he's too ashamed. "Our Dad was never there, not really. He was there to yell at us, there to lay into me for doin' something wrong, but if it wasn't for me... I honestly don't know what would've happened to Sammy."

"Did you really have to do everything for him?" Cas asks, and there's pity in his voice that Dean hates. But he doesn't react to it, because he knows the pity comes from a good place. It's just something Dean has learned to despise, wrongly so.

"Pretty much." Dean sighs. "Cooked his meals, took him to school, picked him up, talked to his teachers, beat up his bullies... the whole shebang really." 

"That's terrible." Cas says, his thumb moving over the skin of Dean's hand. "I can't even imagine that kind of burden, and when you were so young..."

Dean nods, raising his eyebrows. He's never talked plainly about this stuff with anyone before, but he doesn't want to let that show. His stomach is twisting anxiously, but he tries to calm it - it's going fine. Cas isn't going to judge him. Cas won't even tell anyone, he's not that kind of person. Dean can trust him.

"So yeah, as you can imagine, Sam was my whole world. Everything I did, my whole life was to help Sam somehow." Dean explains, and he hopes Cas gets this, he really does. He doesn't know anyone else who's ever been through anything like what he has. "I never put anything before him, especially not myself. If we were out of food - Sam was first priority." Dean rubs the back of his neck. "And then, I dunno, I guess we grew up. But it's like I didn't notice. I kept on putting Sam first, so I never got a good education, never studied, never did anything for myself cause I was always working to protect Sam, or to provide for Sam."

Cas nods along, and Dean is thankful for it, it's like moral support, knowing he's following the story. 

"Even when I came here," Dean says, and it's getting closer to the point he's going to admit everything now, and he's petrified, "I never looked for someone romantically, not really, because really my mind was back in Kansas - and my brain told me that I'd have to stop any kind of romance before it got too far, in case it came before Sam." 

Castiel is looking a little shocked now. "You must... really love your brother."

"I do, Cas. Of course I do." Dean says, smiling because it's so absurd. "But no more than you love Gabriel! I just didn't see it before - how crazy I've been acting. Sam's okay now, I mean- he'll be better off away from Dad, sure, but he's almost your age for Christ's sake, he can take care of himself. I've just had the same 'protect Sammy' mantra drilled into me for so long, I never stopped to think it might not apply the same way anymore."

"So, what does that have to do with..." Cas starts to say, and then blushes.

"You?" Dean asks, finishing his sentence. Cas shrugs, still blushing faintly. Dean smiles, leaning forwards, placing his other hand on top of their joined ones. "Well, I met you Cas, and I was gone pretty much instantly. It's taken me a long time to realise it, but against all my reservations, all my defences and stupid friggin' rules - I fell in love with you, Cas, and it doesn't matter how much I try and get out of it, or how much I stupidly try and push you away. I'm in love with you, and it's fucking terrifying. But I'd do anything to have you again."

Cas's eyes are glistening again, and he looks away. There's a drawn out silence, yet again. "Dean..."

Dean nods slowly, looking down at his his hands, still wrapped around Cas's. He doesn't particularly want to stick around for the rejection speech. He knows the gist of what Cas will say. He's too late. "It's okay, Cas." Dean says, trying to pull back his hands, but Cas won't let them budge. "You don't feel that anymore. It's fine. I hurt you more than I can even comprehend. Let me up and I'll get out of your hair. For good this time."

Castiel still clamps firmly onto Dean's hands. It would probably look a little comical if someone were watching them - playing a peculiar tug of war with their own limbs.

" _Dean._ " Cas says, more urgently this time, and Dean stays put, resigning himself to listening. "Do you mean that?"

Dean's mind stutters. "Uh, yes. Yeah o'course."

Cas nods, his brow creased again as thoughts whizz almost visibly through his brain. "Then my answer is yes."

Now it's Dean's turn to crease his brow. "Come again?"

Cas smiles, properly, for the first time since Dean walked into The Roadhouse, and it stills Dean, melting his heart. "My answer. To the question you asked - do you think we have a chance? It's yes."

Dean's mind is blank. He genuinely doesn't know how to react. He thinks that maybe he never expected Cas to take him back again, never really even dared hope for that second chance. But Cas is giving it to him. Bless his beautiful, trusting, incredible and rare soul - Cas still wants him, is saying that Dean can have him again. He wants to jump on the table and declare it to the world, he wants to order five bottles of champagne, he wants to call every single person he knows and ram the information down their throats, he wants to take Cas home, lock him away in his room, strip off that annoyingly tight shirt of his and- woah. 

Particularly yes to that last one, thinks Dean. 

When Dean's mind lands back on this earthly plane, Cas is laughing at him slightly. "Did you just black out after I told you we could see each other again? I've never seen anyone do that before!"

Dean shakes his head, laughing too. "Ahh, shut up." 

"No." Cas says defiantly, and there's a glimmer in his eye. He's acting out on purpose, Dean thinks, practically crying with joy. God, he's got a good one here. 

" _No?_ " Dean repeats, and he squares his shoulders a little, leaning in close, assuming his position of dominance. Castiel shivers very slightly, but Dean catches it, and smirks. "Is that really what you wanna say to me, Cas?"

Castiel leans forwards as well, bringing their faces extremely close, and slips his hand out of Dean's. He nods, smirking just slightly, the defiance still in his expression. 

"Well," Dean breathes, and Cas's eyelids flutter a little as Dean's lips move, so close to his, "I think I might have to teach you some manners." 

"Is that right?" Castiel asks innocently, and he appears cool as anything, but Dean doesn't miss the quick glance Cas darts towards his lips. He smirks wider. 

"Think you can handle that?" Dean purrs, dropping his voice low because he knows it gets Cas going. Cas nods mutely, and Dean nods too. "Good. Up we go then, angel. Get that cute little ass o'yours over to the door, I'll get the tab."

Castiel looks surprised, and he stares at Dean for a moment. Dean holds his breath - he knows he may be pushing his luck at this point. Sure, Cas is apparently - for some unknown, miraculous reason - giving him a second chance, but that doesn't necessarily mean the guy is willing to leap straight into bed with him.

But here's how Dean is reasoning it out - this is the stuff their relationship was founded on, it might even partly be what makes their relationship so good. To have all the other stuff: the hand-holding, date nights, walks along the beach - whatever - they need to have this as a base layer. 

But Cas might not agree of course. So Dean chews the inside of his cheek, not wanting to let his dominant demeanour fall away, but not totally sure about this either. He waits for Cas's response. To his shock, and relief, Cas stands up, smiling mischievously, and without a word, strolls over to the door. 

Dean practically falls over his own feet in his haste to go after him - he can't help but feel this is too good to be true, that it's all about to slip away, and Cas will leave him a drooling mess on the floor. But instead, he digs two twenties out of his jeans, slams them down on the table and strides towards the exit. 

Cas is waiting there, picturesque as he leans casually against one of the door frames, a slightly bored expression on his face, though Dean knows he's only messing about. He can see the excitement in the kid's eyes. Dean looks him up and down, drinking him in, unable to comprehend the idea that all of this perfection is his now. 

"Hey, Winchester!" Someone shouts, from across the room, and Dean wants to murder whoever it is for forcing him to look away from the perfection stood before him. He cranes his neck to see some idiot wearing a scarf with the college colours. Oh shit, he thinks, and turns to see that  - of course - Cas is looking too. "Way to lose us the game on Sunday!"

Dean flips the guy off, but he can't help feeling stung. For fuck's sake - he almost got away with Cas not knowing that. 

"Well at least he can rest easy knowing he'll always look hotter than you in shorts." It's Cas's voice, though loud enough to reach the ears of the dickhead across the room. Dean turns to him, stunned, only to find Cas is now flipping the guy off too. "Have you ever set foot on a football field, you sanctimonious prick?!"

Dean has never been more proud. He's also really quite turned on. Cas looks good all worked up like this, Dean should get him angry more often. Except no - that's bad. He's going to be a good, sweet boyfriend. Wow, he thinks, boyfriend. New word. That'll take some getting used to. He should also probably talk to Cas before referring to him as his boyfriend. But they can talk later, not now. 

Dean walks over to Cas, who is still distracted by the prick in the back of the restaurant - that is until Dean crowds him up against the doorframe again, standing up close to him, chest to chest. Cas stares up into his eyes, and Dean looks down into pools of endless blue.

"Ready to go?" Cas asks, his voice shaky. His eyes flick to Dean's lips again, and it drives Dean a little bit crazy. But then he remembers, there are no rules stopping him from doing what he most desires now, he can do the thing he's wanted to for so long.

"Just one more thing." Dean says in response, and he turns, making sure people are watching, which of course they all are. He's Dean Winchester isn't he? He turns back to Cas, smiling away, winding an arm around his neck. Cas goes with it, leaning away from the wall to make it easier, and Dean bends down, hooking his other arm behind Cas's knees, lifting him into a bridal carry. Cas squeaks, flailing a little, but stills as soon as he realises Dean can take the weight. Dean wants to laugh at his concern - he's as light as a feather. "Ready, angel."

Cas's eyes soften a little, and then Dean leans in, pressing his mouth against the soft, fruit punch lips he's been aching for seemingly forever. He kisses Cas like he should have been kissed the first time, soft, slow, and then so deeply it leaves him weak. He can't believe he's missed this all those times, for the sake of some stupid personal rule. 

Cas tastes like he smells, like the crispness of a morning and the warmth of a sleeping kitten. He tastes sweet and otherworldly, and Dean is such a fucking idiot for missing out. 

But, he thinks with a smile, it'll be okay. He plans to make up for it. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had such fun writing this for you guys! Thank you all so much for reading, I hope you are satisfied with the ending, though I am already planning a sexy epilogue. It's just left too unsexy for me. Gotta know what happens when they get home amiright. 
> 
> Love you all immensely, comment and make my day? xxxxxxxxx
> 
> \---
> 
> Edit: This story now has a sequel in the works! Check out Psi Delta Alpha Boys: Kappa Sigma. Chapters are posted every week! (And it's almost complete).


	16. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.
> 
> The sexy, frustrating, sexy aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Okay, I know. It's been a while guys, right? 
> 
> I'm SORRY. Look, you don't understand, this epilogue... it took over my LIFE. I don't know what came over me but... I couldn't let them go. I just couldn't. Epilogues are supposed to be short little ficlets where they have sex and it's cute and fluffy. Mine is basically a mini-sequel. So enjoy, this torturous thing. I can't even look at it anymore. 
> 
> (I do hope you enjoy it though, I had loads of fun writing it too at times haha. It's very sexy I hope, so have fun reading that! As always, love you all to pieces.)

It takes Dean and Cas a long time to get even halfway back to campus. Cas, although unsure at first, is a big fan of the bridal carry as it allows him to wrap himself entirely around Dean, not to mention bringing their faces closer than would have been possible were he simply standing. Nevertheless, Dean only makes it so far with Cas in his arms. Strangely, a kind of crippling need seems to attack them both every few steps they take away from The Roadhouse, and they have to stop repeatedly to immerse themselves in each other over and over again. 

It's as though, Cas thinks to himself as Dean pushes him against a fence and slides a hand under his shirt, they have both suddenly realised how many kisses they have missed out on in the time they've known one another, and are frantically hurrying to catch up. 

"Damn it, Cas," Dean mumbles against Cas's lips, barely understandable, "why the Hell didn't you tell me you were so good at this?" 

Cas makes a strangled sound, clutching tighter at Dean's Letterman, pulling him as close as possible. "At what?"

"Kissing." Dean replies, a little breathless, and he breaks away briefly, letting Cas's eyes heavily open, staring into his pupils. Silence falls for a drawn out moment, both of them exhaling their silvery breaths into the frosty air between their lips. "We should get home." Dean says urgently, and removes his hand from Cas's shirt, only so he can grasp hold of his hand. "Now."

Dean starts to lead them away again, through the seemingly endless night, back towards campus, when the question flitting around in Cas's brain finally bursts free of his mouth. 

"I can't believe I'm going to say this," Cas says, blushing already as the two of them continue briskly forwards, not looking at each other because if they do - they won't be able to control themselves, "but... your place, or mine?" 

Dean barks a laugh into the darkness that lasts a good ten seconds; neither of them cease walking. Cas is about to make an annoyed retort at Dean's response, but something catches his eye, distracting him. A flake of white drifts down, settling onto the bright scarlet of Dean's jacket. It's followed by another, and then another, peppering his Letterman with pinpricks of pure white. 

Cas feels cold specks rain against his cheek. It's snowing, he realises in awe, turning his face to the Heavens. He realises that they've stopped, both of them, dumbstruck by the sight of the snowflakes falling from the sky. Cas is shaken out of his reverie by the squeeze of Dean's hand. 

"Cas, you don't even have a coat on, man." 

It takes Castiel a few moments to catch up with Dean's words, but then he looks down at himself, realising this is true. He came out today in his shirt, blind and oblivious to the cold, uncaring of potential pneumonia or worse. He was so broken just a few hours earlier, it's hard to believe so much has changed since. He doesn't feel particularly cold though, and he tells Dean as much.

"Dude, it's probably the alcohol in your system." Dean says, sounding a little concerned. All Cas can focus on is Dean's hand grasped in his, still. "It's making you think you're warmer than you are." 

Castiel barely even thinks about it, he just takes a step forwards, sliding his arms around Dean's waist, under that thick jacket. He's right, he must have been cold a second ago because this is pure Heaven. 

Dean, on the other hand, seems to have frozen solid. He stares down at Cas, seemingly at a loss for what to do or say. He wraps his arms around Cas in return, then, with a noise which sounds like a mixture of desperation and defeat, he presses his lips to Cas's, pushing firmly against him, seeking as much as he can. Cas drinks it all in eagerly, his hands travelling up the warm, wide expanse of Dean's back, drawing him closer. 

"Ok, forget home," Dean breathes, sounding frantic, "anywhere. Anywhere is good." 

Cas raises his eyebrows at Dean's words, wondering if he could possibly mean what he thinks. "W-where are we?" 

Dean lifts his head with visible reluctance, looking around himself. Cas notices it at the same time Dean does, and thinks that Dean is no doubt feeling just as silly as him right now. They're standing beside the East Gate, partially concealed due to the darkness and the flurry of snow, but tall and unmistakeable nonetheless. It's oddly enough where they met up for their first date, Cas thinks, smiling a little, and then Dean is dragging him forwards. 

"Dean?" Cas says, allowing himself to be pulled, but feeling too desperate for spontaneity right now. "Where are we going?"

"I know a place." 

Cas follows along, virtually blinded by the snow along with the fact he can't stop staring at the figure slightly in front of him, tugging him through the night. In his peripheral vision he recognises vague shadowy landmarks - the building he registered in when he first came to college, the library, the graveyard- oh. 

Cas turns his head for this last one, unable to resist the temptation to stare out across the beautiful snow-speckled expanse of tombstones laid out in the centre of everything. His eyes glaze for a moment, then Dean tugs them sharply left, and they're outside a very familiar door. Cas turns to Dean, eyebrows raised. 

"This is the place you know? The Sciences Building?"

Dean bites his lip. "Uh yeah, but..." He lets out a stifled groan. "I didn't really think this through, huh? It looks pretty closed for the night." 

Cas turns to peer inside the large glass doors. Sure enough, all the lights are out, and there's no security guard seated at reception. "It appears so." 

Before Cas knows it, Dean is grabbing hold of him again, crushing him against his chest and wrapping that deliciously warm jacket around him. Cas's eyes fall closed - it's just so good being so near to Dean. Not to mention the warmth. 

"Jeez, I'm sorry Cas. We'll have to head back after all, I'd say yours is closer, but not by much. Not that I'm presuming-"

"Dean." Cas sighs happily, and he wriggles a bit in Dean's grasp, reaching into his back pocket. "I think, possibly, you are forgetting who you're talking to." Cas digs in his pocket for a bit, and then holds up a key before Dean's eyes. "I'm a tutor of this fine establishment, remember?"

Dean's eyes seem to pop for a moment, and then he stares down at Cas, awestruck. "Are you... Cas, are you saying you have a key for this building?"

Cas grins up at him, reluctantly pulling himself free of Dean's grasp. "Technically the key is for the classroom. But I do have to code to open the door, yes." 

"H-how?!" Dean asks, incredulous.

"Crowley gave it to me. He knew I had work to catch up on, so agreed to let me study in the lab after hours." Cas smirks. "He also gave me permission for after hours tutoring."

Dean promptly steps forward, grabs Cas around the waist and kisses him. "You're so awesome." Dean laughs, letting him go. 

Cas laughs, blushing, and steps forward to the control pad, noticing his fingers are shaking as he punches in the code. As soon as the doors slide open, Dean whoops with joy, and immediately swoops Cas into his arms again, barely letting him gather his wits before descending on him with more kissing. Somehow, with that glorious jock strength that Cas is seriously never going to get over, Dean carries him upstairs to the extremely familiar corridor where Cas has spent a lot of his freshman year. 

It looks slightly eerie in the dark, but Cas doesn't pay it any attention. He's warming up, slowly, feeling the life return to his fingertips, spreading through him to warm his every crevice, setting his nerves tingling, and that thing Dean keeps doing with his tongue against Cas's lips is just exacerbating the situation. Dean places Cas carefully down outside the lab they share, but every time Cas tries to fit the key in the lock, Dean is crowding against him, kissing his neck, making him shiver, running those big, beautiful hands all over his chest, his arms - everywhere. 

Finally, somehow, Cas manages to get the door open, and they stumble inside, Cas's arms around Dean's neck, Dean walking them backwards until they hit something - Crowley's desk. It squeaks across the linoleum as it moves slightly, making them both jump, and then they giggle nervously, their hearts pounding with the adrenaline of just being here. 

Dean seems to have a thing about not wanting their lips apart for longer than necessary, so he swoops back in immediately, pushing so fervently now that Cas is being moved backwards with the force, his thighs against the lip of Crowley's desk, Dean pushing insistently until he's laid flat out on it, on his back, Dean on top of him. He's not complaining, far from it, he encourages it, pulling Dean onto him, shimmying further up so that they can lie on it together. 

He can feel Dean's hands everywhere, leaving trails of sparks in their wake, rucking his shirt up again and dancing underneath it, Dean’s nails raking down his waist, making him gasp and writhe. Dean leans up a little, removing his Letterman and throwing it aside, not even looking where it lands, Cas notices. Cas clutches hold of the now-exposed skin of Dean's arms, his hands smoothing over the muscles, tracing the familiar dips and curves. 

Dean doesn't stop at his jacket, he sheds his shirt too as soon as he can get free of Cas's wandering hands, and Cas moans at the sight, utterly helpless now because he'd actually managed to dull the sensation of this, witnessing Dean Winchester naked or even partially clothed - it's so excruciatingly hot, watching from this position, Cas thinks, and his hands shoot out to smooth over all the inches of beautiful golden skin stretched over defined muscle on top of him. 

As soon as his t-shirt is over his head, Dean grins down at him, winking - goddamn him. He swoops down and kisses Cas with an intensity that should surely be illegal, especially after having turned Cas on this much already. All Cas can think about, all he can register as his fingers tangle in Dean's hair is the sensation of Dean's tongue twining with his, combined with the heavy, perfect and oh-so-warm weight of Dean on top of him, his burning hot skin pouring its heat into Cas from above. 

Cas believes he's in Heaven. He kisses with all his power, thinking that the moment he is experiencing could not possibly be improved; Dean's hips push forward into his, colliding the betrayal of their arousals together and pulling a choked moan of ecstasy from Cas's throat. His hips, his toes, his chest, everywhere feels as though it has burst into flame from that one simple movement of Dean's, and Cas tries to convey wordlessly that he needs more. 

He bucks his hips upwards, searching for that same sensation, and he delves deeper into the kiss, his tongue exploring the regions of Dean he's never been allowed to before, their lips colliding messily until neither of them cares. Dean's moans are increasing in frequency, yet he still doesn't push his hips forward again.

Cas reaches down, sliding a hand over Dean's bare back, then over the waistband of his jeans until he's gripping the firm buttocks he remembers so fondly. Dean moans again, and this time he does what Cas is hoping for, he pushes down, grinding them together, not just once but over and over, until Cas's mouth falls slack and his head lolls backwards. 

"Wait," Dean says breathlessly, his hips slowing to a stop, "wait."

Cas groans again, but out of frustration this time. What could possibly be the need for a hold up right now? “What? What’s wrong?”

Cas peers up at Dean through half-lidded eyes, and slowly registers the furrowed brow, the uncertain and desperate expression Dean wears. He opens his eyes more fully at the sight, clutching hold of Dean’s biceps.

“Cas, maybe we should…”

“What? What is it?” Cas asks, a little concerned now. His own arousal is blurring his emotions; he’s not able to think as clearly as he would normally. Is something really wrong? What’s Dean trying to tell him? “Are you alright?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this.” Dean finishes hesitantly, chewing his lip, and Castiel goes still. Shouldn’t do this? Dean has changed his mind? He doesn’t really want to try again with Cas, maybe he just wanted to see if he could get back here again, maybe it was all another game to him... Oh God, Cas thinks, the blood draining from his face, has he made a huge mistake, yet again-

“Woah, woah,” Dean cries out, interrupting Cas’s downward spiral, “I know that look, I don’t mean- come on, of course I still wanna make things work with you. I just mean…” Dean leans up, away from Castiel, and it’s like a bucket of icy water splashing down on him. Castiel wants to cover himself, to curl up in a ball, though he’s not the least bit exposed, and certainly not in comparison to shirtless Dean. “I mean, maybe we should wait. To do this, I mean.”

Dean gestures between them with one hand, clearly indicating what he means. He may as well have spelled out ‘SEX’ in bright sparkly letters. Castiel starts to blush. He wants to go home, God this is _humiliating._ How the fuck did he let himself get into this situation? He is going to have a serious talk with himself when he gets home. Dean Winchester, again, has fucked him over-

“Cas!” Dean interrupts again, this time taking Cas by the shoulders and bringing their faces inescapably close. “Stop, I can see what you’re doing! You’re over-analysing things in that braniac head of yours, probably not helped by the fact we’re in a damn classroom right now.” Cas narrows his eyes a little. “Look, I just mean… maybe we should take it kinda slow, y’know? Don’t get me wrong, I wanna do you right here on the desk until the freakin’ sun comes up but, well, I can’t help thinkin’ jumping straight into all the sexy stuff was what got us into trouble last time.”

Cas doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t move either, he’s too busy trying to work through what Dean is saying. It’s so difficult though when he’s still shirtless and still so close, Cas could literally lean forwards and taste any part of Dean he chose right now with a few carefully aimed inches…

“I don’t want it to be like that this time, y’know?” Dean continues, breaking Cas out of his reverie. “I wanna know you, I wanna spend time with you and go on stupid sappy dates, do all the romantic couple crap, the whole deal. Of course I want all the naughty stuff too – ” Dean raises his eyebrows, winking cheekily, and Cas about melts from it, “ – but without the other stuff it’s meaningless, Cas. I want it all.” Cas nods along wordlessly, his lips pressing together with the effort of not leaping forwards and shoving his hand inside Dean’s pants. “So?” Dean asks, chewing his lip again. “What do you think?”

Cas pauses for a long moment. “Are you kidding me?”

Dean’s brow creases. “Huh?”

“Dean.” Cas leans forwards, gathering up one of Dean’s hands in both of his. “Dean, I love you, but this will kill me.”

Dean chuckles, shaking his head. “Naw, c’mon angel, I think you’ll be ok.”

Cas stares at him incredulously. “Dean, have you _seen_ yourself?”

Dean laughs again, swatting at the air in front of him. “Don’t be melodramatic. I’m not sayin’ it’s gonna be easy, Cas. For _either_ of us. But just think… it’s gonna be so, so good when we finally get there.” Cas just stares at him further, open-mouthed. “Plus, we’ll have plenty of sappy romantic stuff to distract ourselves with. It’ll be just like we’re a real couple who just started dating.”

“No.” Cas says boldly, and Dean raises his eyebrows. Cas mentally crosses his fingers, praying this will work. If there’s one thing Dean can’t resist it’s defiance of his authority. But he just smirks. The bastard. “I don’t agree to your terms, Winchester.”

Dean grins at him. “Pretty please, angel?” Dean shuffles a little closer on the desk towards him, bringing his mouth up to Cas’s ear. “What if I promise to make it worth your while at the end, huh?”

Castiel shudders involuntarily, groaning as he feels Dean’s lips dragging lightly over the shell of his ear. “H-how long do I need to wait?”

Dean shrugs with nonchalance. “I think we’ll know when it’s right.”

“In other words _you’ll_ know.” Castiel grumbles, and then gasps as Dean’s fingers trail down his spine. “Ok, fine!”

Dean kisses him on the temple. “Alright! This is gonna be so worth it, Cas, you’ll see. I’m gonna be the best boyfriend – I’ll make coffee in the morning, I’ll cuddle you all night long, I’ll carry your books, I’ll-”

“Boyfriend, huh?”

A rare Dean-blush sprouts on his cheeks, and Castiel stares at it in awe. “Uh, yeah, I guess we didn’t um… Didn’t exactly classify…”

Castiel, though enjoying the show, decides to save him. He’s a saint really. “I like boyfriend. Do I get to tell other people that?” Castiel pauses. “Especially Meg Masters?”

Dean laughs, “Go nuts. Do I get to do the same?”

Now it’s Castiel’s turn to blush. He actually has to look away. “Yes.” He doesn’t turn back to Dean, deciding to make use of this opportunity. Instead he stares at the Periodic Table on the wall, attempting to memorise it. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“If you’re really going to make me do this no-sex thing, I must insist you put your shirt back on.”

“Oh, right.” Dean says, laughing, and Castiel feels him hop off the desk to retrieve it from where it was hastily flung.

There’s a serious, monumentally sharp pang in Castiel’s stomach, left there by the fact he didn’t get to be intimate with Dean, especially after all that unbelievable build-up. It also stings a bit that Dean was the one who suggested the sex-break, even that he was able to bring himself to do that is a bit painful.

Castiel looks down, feeling a little hurt.

“Cas?” Dean says from behind him, having climbed back on the desk, and Castiel turns to find him back in his t-shirt and Letterman, a look of slight concern on his face. “What’s up?”

It’s a split second decision, but Castiel decides he has to at least see if Dean is as unaffected as he appears. Without warning, Cas darts forward, climbing onto Dean, straddling his lap, taking the older boy by surprise. Dean starts to say something, but Castiel quickly swoops in, sealing their mouths together before he can speak, kissing Dean fiercely, with teasing flicks of tongue. He winds his hands into Dean’s hair, tugging slightly, and hooks his legs around Dean’s waist one after the other.

It’s a few drawn out moments of only mildly responsive kissing, but then something in Dean seems to audibly snap. The older boy moans, and clutches at Cas, winding his hands around him and pulling him forwards. He pushes against Cas’s lips with his own, forcing Cas’s mouth open and twining their tongues together. His hands slip down Cas’s back until they grip his ass, squeezing firmly, and Cas cries out at the touch.

Cas never stopped being hard, not for one second, despite all Dean was saying, he was far too worked up from their walk over here; now he can feel Dean’s hardness beneath the denim of his jeans, and he moves his crotch over it, thrusting slightly, making Dean moan again.

He’s succeeding, he thinks, he’s going to break this infernal rule Dean randomly decided was an excellent idea. He’ll stop it in its tracks before it’s even fully formed-

But alas, no such luck.

As if he suddenly realises what’s happening, Dean grabs hold of Cas’s wrists, holding them tightly, stopping their movements. He ducks deftly out of the way of Cas’s insistent kisses, and leans back a short way, trying to catch Cas’s eye.

“Hey! Hey, c’mon, no fair.” Dean cries, and Cas reluctantly slows his advances. “That was a sneaky move, Castiel. But you’re not gonna break me that easy.”

Cas rolls his eyes, and Dean chuckles.

“Aw, don’t be like that, look we can still kiss whenever we want.” Dean says, his voice happy, if a little strained. He demonstrates his point by leaning in and kissing Cas softly, pulling away quickly as soon as Cas tries to deepen it, much to his annoyance. “See, not so bad, right?”

“Can I still suck you off whenever I want?” Cas asks grumpily, and Dean chokes a little on his own breath, swiftly turning it into a startled laugh.

“That’s funny, Cas.” Dean says, and his voice sounds strange. “You’re a real joker, y’know that?”

Cas rolls his eyes again, and decides the time has come – horror of horrors – to clamber off of Dean. He does so as gracefully as possible, though Dean’s hands come out to steady him more than once.

“So what now?” Castiel asks once he is finally standing, and Dean is smirking at his irritable expression, clearly amused. “I’m not happy about this, okay?”

“Clearly.” Dean says, attempting to mask his smile with a serious face and failing miserably. “How ‘bout we go back to yours? I don’t really wanna trek all the way out to the Frat right now unless you do…”

“No, no,” Cas sighs, turning towards the door, “let’s go back to mine, sure. We can have a nice, pleasant, sex-free night there.” Cas lowers his voice to a grumble. “If I don’t die of frustration first.”

When he turns back to see if he’s being followed, Dean is laughing to himself silently, but he is getting off the desk, sauntering over to Cas in that way of his, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

“Cas, you are honestly the best.” Dean chuckles, and Cas thinks that yeah, well, he must be to put up with this shit. Who would have even dreamed that going out with _Dean Winchester_ would entail a ‘you-have-to-woo-me-to-get-my-pants-off’ rule? It seems absurd. “Alright,” Dean continues, “lead the way, angel.”

* * *

Upon arrival back at Cas’s room, the younger boy quickly realises this is going to be every bit as horrendous as he anticipated. He makes Dean wait outside the door at first, running inside to do a bit of hurried tidying – he’s been a mess for the past week, and his bed is filled with Dean’s hoodies, tissues, his laptop which is playing the Star Wars DVD Dean left here on repeat, and the honey lube – just because he likes the _smell,_ nothing weird, okay?!

Well, not that often anyway.

He shoves all of the shameful evidence of his post-breakup meltdown into the back of his wardrobe (a spot which is quickly becoming his favourite hideaway for embarrassing items), shoves some dirty underwear into his laundry basket and goes to open the door.

Dean is leaning against one doorframe, casual and just as freaking gorgeous as every single time Cas has literally ever seen him. It’s not _fair._ It’s just not fair of Dean to ask him to do this when Cas has definitely, without a doubt gotten the worst end of the deal. How is he supposed to resist Dean Winchester now, when he couldn’t even resist him in the beginning?

Dean raises his eyebrows, and Cas realises he’s just standing in the doorway, staring. “Uh, gonna let me in, sweetness?”

“Y-yes.” Castiel says, and back here, stammering like a fool in his room with Dean outside the door, it’s just as though they’ve gone back to the start of this thing, and Cas is just a clueless, virginal, utterly smitten idiot that Dean is taking for a ride. The thought makes him a little angry, but he swallows it down, stepping aside to let Dean in. Dean apologised for everything, sincerely. He’s really only trying to be better than he was before. Cas shouldn’t be angry, he really shouldn’t, but try telling his brain that. “Um, so it’s pretty late, do you just wanna go to bed or…”

Cas sighs internally, knowing just how Dean would have answered that question normally. There probably wouldn’t have even been an answer, Castiel would have just been swept off his feet and deposited on the bed – or maybe ordered there, either way is fine by him – Dean would have delved on top of him, and already they’d be-

“Yeah, prob’ly should.” Dean answers, shrugging. He’s looking around the room again and it makes Castiel nervous. There’s nothing in here, no posters or knick-knacks, not really. He’s got a card from his Grandma on display on his desk, and there are a couple of quotations from famous physicians, poets and philosophers on the noticeboard where he keeps all his schedules and Physics reminders. That’s it though, hardly anything to reveal about himself. Dean would have to go poking around in Cas’s drawers and cupboards for that, and he really would prefer that didn’t happen. “Got class tomorrow. Do you?”

“Yeah.” Castiel answers vaguely, though he’s not even sure what day it is right now to be honest. His heart thumps vigorously at the very notion of sharing a bed with this gorgeous creature in front of him. How is he going to get through this? “I should get changed.” Castiel blurts, and then forces his voice to calm itself. “Do you want some pyjamas?”

Dean turns to Castiel, smiling. “Nah, that’s alright.” To Castiel’s horror, Dean sidles closer to him, and it’s excruciating having him so close. Dean’s arms wind around Cas’s waist, pressing them together, and it’s all Cas can do not to whimper. “I don’t wear pyjamas.”

Castiel could swoon right there and then in Dean’s arms. No pyjamas?! How does Dean think this is going to work? Does he think Castiel is just able to switch off his libido like a faucet? At this rate, Castiel’s going to have to sleep in the hallway.

Before he knows it, Dean’s lips are on his, and it’s still such an alien sensation that it practically knocks Cas off his feet. He catches up after a few seconds, kissing back eagerly, his hands hurrying to push the Letterman gently off of Dean’s shoulders. Dean chuckles against his lips. What, Cas thinks to himself, Dean just said he’s sleeping naked, right? Can’t Castiel at least _help_ with that?

Cas is just in the process of unbuttoning Dean’s jeans – with no ulterior motives of course – when Dean stops him, laughing again at his eagerness. He catches hold of his wrists, bringing them together in between both of their chests, and looks Cas in the eye.

“Why don’t you go get in your pyjamas, hot stuff?” Dean asks, smiling away because he’s amused. “I think I can handle getting undressed by myself.”

Castiel leans forwards as best he can, pressing himself against Dean as much as possible. “But Dean, what if _I_ can’t handle it?”

Dean laughs again and swats at him playfully, releasing his wrists at last. “Go on, you little perv. Get in the bathroom and get dressed. I’ll be waiting in bed when you return.”

Dean wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Cas wants to slap him. “Come _on._ That’s just cruel.”

“Oh, and the way you’ve been throwing yourself at me so far isn’t?” Dean counters, though his smile is still firmly in place. “This attraction goes both ways, Cas.”

Cas blushes at the very idea that Dean is finding him hard to resist, dithering in the middle of his room for a second at the mere thought of that. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, suddenly. What was he about to do? Oh yes, pyjamas.

He turns to his drawers, opening the top one and getting out his plain grey top and loose pyjama pants.

“Then why don’t we just end this silly rule now?” Cas asks, grinning as he turns to Dean, knowing the answer will more than likely be ‘get in the bathroom and change’ but he stops short at the sight in front of him.

Dean is undressing in the middle of his room, shedding clothes like they are nothing, like they are nuisances that shield his perfect body from sight. Cas has already glimpsed the holy sight that is Dean without a shirt on once this evening, he doesn’t need it again if he's going to have chance at surviving. He practically runs into his tiny bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Sliding down onto the floor, he clasps his hands together and prays. Just let him get through the night.

* * *

A wolf-whistle sounds as soon as Cas steps out of the bathroom, and Cas lifts his eyes to glare at Dean. His gaze softens into longing almost immediately however, because Dean does in fact seem to be naked under the covers of his bed.

Cas hovers uncertainly in the doorway of his bathroom, trying desperately to think of other things he needs to accomplish before getting in beside Dean, because at that point, he knows his torture truly begins.

But he can think of nothing. He’s in his pyjamas, teeth brushed, face washed, and there’s already a bottle of water by his bed. Dean stares at him expectantly, one hand behind his head, the jerk. How is he so casual about this? How is he not dissolving into tiny pieces like Cas is?

Again, Castiel thinks this is entirely unfair.

“Are you comin’ to bed anytime soon?” Dean asks, and Castiel just scowls at him.

“That depends.” Cas replies, and he fidgets on the spot, looking down at his hands just to distract himself.

“Oh?” Dean asks, and he sounds amused again. “On what, exactly?”

Castiel takes a deep breath, and tries to look serious. He raises his eyes to Dean’s. “Are you naked?”

Dean grins. “Find out for yourself.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Dean laughs a little. “Why? Afraid you won’t be able to stop yourself?” Cas gives him a look. “Aw, c’mon I think I’ll be okay. I’ve got my safeword handy.”

“That’s not funny, Dean.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” Dean says, and he sits up, the smile on his face becoming one of sincerity. “Look, I don’t wanna torture you, shall I just go home?”

Cas’s heart pangs, jumping inside his ribcage. It’s like it’s yelling ‘no’ at his brain. “No,” Cas sighs, giving in to it, “don’t go. I’ll just… I’ll deal with it.”

There’s a look of slightly amused sympathy on Dean’s face as Castiel, defeated, walks over to the bed. “If it helps… I am actually wearing underwear.”

“It doesn’t.” Castiel says almost immediately, lifting the covers and trying hard not to look at Dean’s body underneath them. He fails of course. “But thank you for the thought.”

He doesn’t realise he is still holding the covers aloft until Dean coughs, and he breaks his stare away from Dean’s godlike beauty, sliding in beside him instead. If only this were a double bed, it would make things just that little bit better, Cas thinks. But no, as it is he must not only sleep next to a practically naked Dean, but also be pressed against him.

And be able to do nothing.

“Well,” Dean says, as they lie side by side, staring at the ceiling. Their arms and sides are touching, and the heat between them is practically scorching. “Night, I guess.”

Cas turns his head towards Dean a little, his brow furrowed because Dean’s voice sounds a little strange. Almost as though he were strained in some way.

“Yes,” Cas says once he has determined Dean is not being held at gunpoint, “goodnight. Shall we kiss? Perhaps that would make things worse.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Dean replies. There’s a long pause, wherein neither of them move. “I mean, we could give it a shot, right?”

Cas doesn’t need to be told twice, he springs up at once and leans over Dean, pressing his lips to the boy’s next to him. It does, as it happens, make things about ten thousand times worse to have Dean not only semi-naked and in bed beside him but also _kissing_ him, but Castiel hardly cares. He doesn’t let up, kissing Dean until he is making sounds that run through Castiel’s entire being. Dean’s hands grab at him, fisting his t-shirt and running over his back, pulling him closer.

Cas smooths his own hands over Dean’s chest, brushing over all the familiar places he’s been longing to touch again. He moans against Dean’s lips, the vibrations pouring into their kiss. It’s at that point Dean seems to ‘come to his senses’ (even if those senses are complete nonsenses, Cas thinks privately) and steadies his hands on Cas’s shoulders, stopping his movements, moving him backward.

They both breathe heavily for a moment, staring at each other across the chasm of this unbearable and forbidden tension. Cas thinks in that moment, that Dean is going to break, that he couldn’t possibly stop now, surely- but he does.

“That was… yeah, should prob’ly watch out for that.” Dean says, still gripping Cas’s shoulders. “I forget how good that is with you. The kissing.” Dean pauses. “And in bed… yeah… kind of a recipe for disaster.”

Castiel groans, pulling himself out of Dean’s grip, rolling his eyes and flopping back onto his side of the pillow, defeated once more. “I didn’t realise kissing and sex were two mutually exclusive things with you.” Castiel says grumpily. “If I can only have one or the other I may want to re-negotiate my terms.”

Dean laughs, but it sounds a little flat. “Man, this is harder than I thought.” Dean looks over at Cas, and Cas turns to him, watching intently as the older boy bites his own lip. “It’s been a while, huh?”

“Since we last…?” Castiel asks, and Dean nods slightly, staring at Cas’s lips, apparently quite distracted by them. “It actually hasn’t been that long. Less than a week. Six days to be exact.”

“Really?” Dean asks, sounding shocked. “Wow,” he pauses, sighing, “it feels like…”

“Months.” Castiel agrees, nodding.

“I was gonna go with centuries, but sure.” Dean laughs. Castiel looks over at him for a moment, and then swats at him with one hand. “Hey! What’s that for?”

“You’re making this harder than it already is.” Castiel accuses, eyebrows raised. “And it’s already like friggin Everest. Ground rule number one – no more discussion about how long it’s been since last time.” Castiel doesn’t wait for a rebuttal, instead he simply turns over, away from Dean, and forces his eyes shut. “Goodnight, Dean. See you in the morning.”

He hears a quiet chuckle. “Night, angel.”

As expected, Castiel does not sleep that night.

* * *

As soon as his Religious Studies seminar is over, Castiel barrels out of the door, leaving Professor Shurley quite dizzy and confused no doubt. Though he’s pretty much always that way. Castiel suspects it has something to do with the bottle of whiskey he keeps in the bottom drawer of his desk. Castiel knows where he needs to go. And, perhaps surprisingly, it’s not to go and stalk Dean somewhere. No, that would just be a further form of torture, as he is not allowed to touch the boy, at least not _properly._ Though that is certainly not for lack of trying. 

On the way to his destination, Castiel replays the memory of this morning in his mind, not even caring about the embarrassment he feels because he is too all-consumed with this burning, uncontrollable desire to have Dean, and have him completely. Surely he’s earned the right by now?!

This morning, as soon as his alarm sounded, Castiel leapt out of bed, flinging Dean’s arm off him in the process as it had, like a determined viper, coiled itself around Cas’s body in the night.

Dean was of course stirred by Cas’s violent awakening, and opened his eyes blearily to see Cas, dithering beside the bed, wired and probably crazy-eyed from lack of sleep, staring down at him.

“You ok?” Dean asked, grinning lazily.

Cas merely shook his head, mumbled something about needing to get to class, and, hiding his morning (and night long) wood as best he could, stumbled over to his wardrobe to get dressed.

After that, it was a morning of increasingly awkward blunders and furious blushing, trying damn hard to avoid catching sight of Dean’s… anything as he reluctantly gave up trying to call Cas back to bed and got up to face the day. In hindsight, Cas realises that getting up first was probably the more terrible option because then, once he was dressed, he had to wait for Dean, with nothing to do but sit and watch him, or try to avoid it.

Dean took his sweet time getting ready too, apparently completely fine with wandering about with no shirt on, sidling over to Cas – who was sitting on his own hands on his desk chair - at various moments to kiss the top of his head or run a hand through his hair, asking casually if he could borrow a comb, or if he could maybe steal one of his hoodies back – just for today – as if being that close to Cas didn’t leave the younger boy desperate, and even worse- eye level with acres of unshielded abs.

It had been a long night for Castiel Novak. And perhaps an even longer morning. With that thought driving him, Castiel stops outside the door of the Psi Delta Alpha Frat House, knowing he is admitting defeat. Yes, already.

He needs help, goddamn it.

He doesn’t bother knocking, everyone in the entire college seems to know of his and Dean’s brand new relationship – apparently Roadhouse news travels fast, if the various congratulatory and few jealous shouts from students on the way over here are anything to go by. And since everyone knows Cas is Dean’s… boyfriend… they aren’t going to stop him coming into his Fraternity are they?

It doesn’t stop Cas’s heart pumping wildly as he steps inside, however. Luckily, nobody is around except the mouse-eyed Pledges, all of whom are doing some form of dusting with gym socks. Castiel doesn’t want to know, so he doesn’t ask. Anyway, they’d probably be forbidden from speaking to him.

Nevertheless, they all stare at Cas as he travels through the hall towards the staircase, not stopping their frantic dusting, but keeping their eyes trained on him regardless. Castiel tries his best to ignore them, and heads up the stairs.

On the upstairs landing, an influx of memories attack Castiel from all sides. Standing here, at the mouth of the staircase, is the first – with Gabriel on Halloween night, him handing Castiel a drink in his ridiculous costume, advising him how to play it with Dean, how to make him jealous.

Out of instinct, Castiel casts his gaze along to the end of the hallway, to Dean’s room. The door is closed, of course, but he gets a strange sort of tremor in him when he thinks about the fact that he could go in, and Dean probably wouldn’t be mad, and nor would anyone else.

How the Hell did he get to this point, Cas thinks, awestruck for a moment, unable to move. He shakes it off as best he can, turning his attention to the door he is here to knock on. He strides over to it, telling himself this is the right thing to do.

Surely it is. Gabriel’s help is… _sometimes_ a good thing, right?

Castiel takes a breath, and raps his knuckles against the wood. He waits. There’s no sound from inside, no candy wrappers rustling, no magazine pages being flicked closed, no noises of ‘ah, ah ah!’ being hurriedly switched off on a computer screen.

Shit, Cas thinks, he hadn’t even considered the possibility that Gabriel might not be here. Well, he supposes his brother _must_ have a life. Of sorts. Maybe.

He should have texted first. He can’t just expect Gabriel to keep dropping everything to help him out with his Dean-crises-

“Can we go inside now? My sugar levels are running dangerously low.”

Castiel damn near jumps out of his skin at the sound of a voice directly behind him, but he settles himself down, used to being jump-scared by his older brother by now. He turns, shoving him in the chest.

“I thought you were out.”

“I was.” Gabriel replies enigmatically.

Without a further explanation, he pushes Castiel out of the way and opens the door to his room. It’s a tip as usual, but Gabriel seems right at home, dumping his bag and a large, intriguing stack of colourful papers on his desk. Castiel tries to see what the papers are, but Gabriel shoves his bag on top of them just in time.

Whatever, Cas thinks, he probably doesn’t want to know.

“So, what can I do for my little bro this time?” Gabriel asks, opening his bedside drawer and pulling out a candy bar. He unwraps it as if he’s starving, and sinks his teeth into the brown goo as soon as he’s peeled away the foil. He moans obscenely, eyes going skyward. Castiel looks away, mildly disgusted. “You wanna hole up in my room again and soak my pillow with your tears?”

Castiel shifts awkwardly from foot to foot. Despite the fact Gabriel is talking with his mouth full, Castiel can hear the mild annoyance in his brother’s voice. He has every right to be irritated, too. Castiel’s been leaning on him pretty heavily for a while.

“No.” Castiel replies. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Or maybe,” Gabriel continues, taking another huge bite before continuing, “you want me to drag you – my underage, jewel of the family, sweet and innocent little brother – out of a bar, blind drunk, and out of your mind with grief, and basically carry you all the way back to your bed.” Castiel gulps, hating himself for putting Gabriel through that. “Oh! And then you want me to stay up watching you all night in case you chunder in your sleep and friggin’ _kill_ yourself.”

“Gabriel…” Castiel says, hardly knowing where to begin to apologise. He didn’t realise Gabriel was so mad at him – why is this all coming out now? “I don’t know what to say, I’m so, so sorry for all of that-”

“Nuh-uh, save it Cassy,” Gabriel interrupts, and there’s serious anger in his eyes. He takes the final bite of his chocolate bar, chewing hurriedly. “I’m not stupid, alright, and I’m always glad to see you, and I’m happy you’re looking so much better already, but I’m thinking there’s only one possible reason why that could be.” Castiel’s stomach flips. Gabriel has already guessed. “If you’re here to tell me that you’re back with that asshat, even after everything he put you through, I’m sorry Cassy but I’m not gonna be a supportive brother.”

“You heard what people have been saying.” Castiel says, thinking it through.

“I didn’t need to, Cassy, the muttonhead came here first!” Gabriel exclaims, and Castiel blinks in surprise. “He didn’t have a clue where to find you, so he came to me and tried to convince me he was gonna treat you better if he got a chance with you again.”

“And did he?” Castiel asks, though he already knows the answer.

“Heck no!” Gabriel cries, as if Cas were crazy. “I mean, he did sound pretty sincere, and maybe he’ll try for a while, but he’s still _him._ He’s not gonna switch personalities just cause he likes some stuff you do between the sheets.”

“He told me he loves me, Gabe.” Castiel says, and Gabriel stops talking, processing that statement.

“He said that?”

“Yes.” Cas replies, though he’s still hardly able to believe it himself. “Believe me Gabe, I was the last person in the world who was ever gonna give him a second chance, but… he really does mean it. I believe him. He’s not gonna be like he was anymore, he shared everything with me. And… yes, I’m back with him. But it’s not like it was.” Castiel sighs, muttering under his breath. “ _Trust_ me on that.”

There’s a long, drawn out silence, and Gabriel sits down on his bed.

“I’m still not gonna like him.” Gabriel says, annoyed.

Castiel laughs, shrugging. “That’s okay. I think he’ll win you over eventually.” Gabriel scoffs. “Well, either that or he’ll order you to be friends with him.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes at Cas, giving him the finger. Cas just laughs again.

“And this in no way means I am not allowed to go through with my prank.” Gabriel adds.

Castiel stops laughing abruptly, going wide-eyed. The blood drains from his face – an instinctive reaction. “Prank?”

Gabriel unleashes his cruel smirk. “You didn’t think I’d let him get away with doing that to my own flesh and blood, did you?”

Castiel thinks for a moment, heart thudding. Actually, he could use this to his advantage. And besides, he’s trying to suppress it but he is still kind of angry with Dean for everything that happened. He went through Hell for this guy, and yeah, maybe he pulled Dean out too, but come on. He deserves a little payback for what he went through.

He’ll let Gabriel pull his little prank – how bad could it be? – and then, since Gabe  is so set on revenge, maybe Cas can use him to help with his current dilemma. Is that kind of gross? Getting your brother involved in sexual matters? Castiel doesn’t exactly have a whole load of options on the friend list front. He could try asking Becky…

“What do you mean… it’s not like it was?” Gabriel asks just in time to stop Castiel considering that dreadful thought, and as easy as pie, Castiel knows he has Gabriel on his side. “Oh God,” Gabriel says, wincing as he takes in Castiel’s blush, and slight coyness all of a sudden, “it’s a sex thing isn’t it? It’s always a sex thing with you two I swear to God.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and drops his bag, walking over to sit beside Gabriel on the bed. “Just shut up and listen. I need your help with this.”

* * *

 

It’s fairly late in the day when Castiel eventually emerges from his brother’s room, feeling slightly queasy about the amount of detail Gabriel had gone into in regards to sexual advice, but feeling a tad more hopeful nonetheless. He’s just closing the door when he hears the bound of footsteps ascending the stairs, and he freezes, preparing himself for a Psi Delta Alpha boy encounter.

“Cas?”

Castiel releases the breath he’d been holding. It’s just Dean. Though why he’s wearing no shirt again, Castiel can only guess. Is someone trying to punish him?

“Um…” Castiel replies, his gaze firmly fixated on Dean’s abs. What day is it again?

Dean chuckles a little, and starts to move towards him. “What’re you doin’ here? I’ve been callin’ you.”

The situation, and Castiel’s abilities to form a sentence, are not improved by Dean’s rapidly increasing proximity- God, Castiel can _smell_ the rich, sharp, mouthwatering scent of Dean right now and it’s just…

“Cas?” Dean prompts, his eyebrows raised, clearly amused.

Castiel blushes, forcing himself to concentrate. He tells himself to stop behaving like a twat and tear his eyes off of Dean’s bare skin. He manages, just.

“I’m, um,” Castiel says, throwing up a hand to stop Dean moving any closer – he has to do _something_ or he’ll become a quivering mess – “looking for you, obviously.”

“Right.” Dean says, his voice sceptical. “And how is Gabriel?”

Cas narrows his eyes at Dean, not happy that the older boy didn’t believe him straight away. Well, he _was_ lying. But that’s not the point.

“Hell bent on making you pay for your sins as it happens.” Castiel replies smoothly, and Dean grimaces. Annoyingly, Castiel can’t help the pang of sympathy he suddenly feels for the boy before him. Even if he is flouncing about with no shirt in a completely against-the-rules manner. “I… tried to dissuade him.”

Dean smiles at him. “Thanks. But he has every right to be pissed.” Dean sighs, and Castiel becomes extremely distracted by the way his muscular shoulders rise and fall. “It’s so creepy not knowin’ when he’s gonna get his revenge.” Castiel tries to hide a smirk, knowing that at least part of Gabriel’s (and his own) revenge upon Dean is going to happen fairly soon. Dean trains his eyes back on Cas, sidling a little closer to him before Cas can stop him. Oh God, it’s torturous having him this close. How is he so _warm…_? “Hey, will you uh, come in my room with me – y’know, just in case Gabe has tampered with… anything?”

Castiel opens his mouth to respond, but is immediately interrupted by a voice from the other side of the door behind him. “Oh, _come on!_ ”

Though Cas thinks it may be a blessing in disguise that he was interrupted before he was able to get out the words ‘fuck yes, take me now’, it still makes him jump. Forwards, as it happens, right into Dean’s unclothed and impossibly beautiful chest.

The door flies open, and Gabriel stands there, looking at Cas as though he’s a moron. He takes a moment to grimace at Dean, and then turns to his little brother.

“What? Do you think these doors are soundproof?” Gabriel asks, and Castiel is frozen, too scared to look up at Dean. “Please tell me you are not gonna fall for that idiotic attempt to get you into his room, Cassy.”

“Um…” Castiel says, not knowing what to say.

Gabriel turns his attention to Dean. “If I had set some sort of trap in there – which is far too tame for what I’m planning to do to you by the way, Winchester – how is Cassy being there gonna help?” Gabriel raises his eyebrows, expectantly. “What, are you gonna let him be on the receiving end of one of my pranks instead of you? Or do you just want him to watch you be humiliated?”

“Gabe,” Dean says, reaching out a hand between them to show his calm, “I wasn’t tryin’a- look, I just wanna hang out with him. Nothin’s gonna happen trust me.”

“Oh, I’m well aware.” Gabriel says, smirking. Dean’s mouth drops open a little, and Castiel screws his eyes shut. Fuck, why did Gabriel have to blurt that out? He told his brother about the non-sex happenings in _confidence._ “Fine. But please remove your horrifying flirty discussions _away_ from my door. And trust me, Winchester, when your punishment does come, I’m gonna make sure my li’l bro is far away from any backfire that could occur. After all, he’s been through enough for one month, don’t you think?”

Before either Dean or Cas can respond, Gabriel ducks back inside his room and slams the door. Not before sneakily giving Castiel a parting wink however, unnoticed by Dean, thank goodness.

“Well.” Dean says, sighing again.

This time Cas can feel it as Dean’s chest inflates, and needless to say, the warmth, the texture, the intoxicating smell – it’s too much for him. Cas turns his face to that tanned, gorgeous skin, and presses his lips against it. His hands move of their own accord, stroking up Dean’s arms, over his shoulders, his lips mouthing against his chest all the while. He hears Dean making quiet little gasps as he goes, and it just spurs him on. He forgets where he is, about Gabriel, about the pranks, about everything, he just loses himself in the sensation of Dean’s body against his mouth, under his hands- and then Dean captures his wrists, stopping him. 

“Cas, c’mon man…” Dean whispers, his voice strange and strained again. “Let’s go to my room.”

Cas doesn’t respond except to look into Dean’s eyes. Luckily, Dean takes this response as an affirmative one, and, keeping one of Cas’s wrists still clutched in his fist, starts to walk them towards his door.

The door is barely closed before Dean rounds on Castiel, pushing him up against it and kissing him hard. Cas can’t seem to help the memories surfacing of a very similar experience to this one, against this very door in fact, on Halloween night. He feels his pants tightening at the very thought, and groans in frustration – absolute _torture._ Unfortunately, Dean seems to mistake Cas’s sound as one of pleasure or encouragement, and deepens the kiss, wrapping a hand around the back of Cas’s neck and pushing his tongue inside Cas’s mouth.

Cas is helpless, he can’t possibly _not_ respond, and so he gives into it, knowing that Dean will stop sometime soon and it will be unbearable, but being unable to do anything about it. They kiss until Castiel’s lips are bruised and swollen, until he’s practically grinding against Dean in his desperation, feeling like he might actually die unless they do more than kiss this time.

When Dean breaks away it’s so abrupt that Cas actually falls forwards, losing his balance as soon as Dean’s hands aren’t holding him against the door. Dean turns away, panting, clearly trying to gather himself. Castiel thinks that above his own laboured breaths, he can hear Dean muttering to himself.

“Dean?” Castiel asks, slightly concerned, but still kind of annoyed. Is Dean really going to leave him in this state? “Are you alright?”

Dean takes a deep breath and turns back to him, though, Cas notes, he is a fair few paces back now. Almost as though he can’t trust himself being any closer.

“Yeah, yeah sorry. I’m fine.” Dean says, and even though he doesn’t quite meet Cas’s eyes, he seems to have calmed down. “A-are you… are you fine?”

Castiel blinks at him, wondering if Dean is actually aware of what just happened or if he’s just having a moment of ignorance. “Actually no, I’m not.” Castiel says, trying to make it sound as though that should be obvious. Dean looks at him in surprise. “Are you seriously stopping right now?”

“Cas, c’mon,” Dean says, “we had a deal.”

Castiel scoffs. If this is how Dean is going to play his part in their ‘deal’ then Cas has absolutely no reason to feel any guilt about what he and Gabriel have planned. “Right.”

“What’s wrong?” Dean asks, squinting a little, as though he can see something is troubling Cas. No shit.

“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

Dean laughs. “What? You think I did that just to mess with you?” Castiel doesn’t respond, simply folding his arms and waiting. “Look, I had a cheeseburger for lunch, I spilled some mustard on my t-shirt alright? I came home, took it off and shoved it in the washing machine. I _was_ headin’ straight upstairs to my room to put on a fresh one, but I ran into you.”

Castiel shifts awkwardly. Damn it, that does seem like a reasonable explanation. And Dean didn’t know he was here after all. “Well, okay. But what about what just happened? The kissing!”

Castiel keeps his arms folded. Dean looks confused. “We said we could still do that!”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t just _kissing,_ that was like… hardcore making out. Foreplay kind of stuff.”

Dean makes a ‘pfft’ sound, swatting the air. “No it wasn’t.”

“Tell that to my boner!” Castiel cries, getting annoyed now. “Maybe I should just go home.”

Castiel turns around to face the door, shaking his head. This is the _worst._ If he and Dean are fighting, this is not a good sign.

“Wait, Cas,” Dean says, running forward to catch hold of the younger boy’s arm, “don’t go, look I’m sorry.” Cas sighs, but pauses in his movement, a little reluctantly. He turns to Dean. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have got so… handsy- please just, wait a second.” Dean turns around, scanning his room for something. Quickly he crosses to his desk chair, pulling off the many items of clothing piled onto it until he finds a t-shirt. He pulls it on quickly, barely even looking at it, and Castiel can’t help the bubble of laughter that escapes him. Dean looks a little confused, then glances down at his top.

“Oh, great.” Dean says, smiling a little, though clearly embarrassed. The t-shirt is a light blue, and on the chest is a cartoon of a small bear, and written on its belly are the words ‘I Wuv Hugs’. “Uh, I can explain.”

“Oh, no need.” Castiel replies, still smiling away. “I happen to know you do in fact ‘ _wuv hugs_ ’.”

Dean gives him a look, though he’s still smiling, which is a good sign. “Sammy gave me this shirt okay? It’s a joke present - a replica of one I had when I was little.” Castiel closes his eyes for a moment, nodding along, smirk still firmly in place. “He found a photo of me as a kid wearing it and- oh shut up will you.”

Castiel laughs again, and Dean turns away, rifling through the mound of clothing again, his cheeks tinged with pink. “Aw, no Dean don’t take it off.” Castiel says, chuckling as he steps towards him. “I think I know what will make you feel better.”

Dean turns, clearly suspicious. Simply because he can’t resist, Castiel holds his arms wide, an invitation for an embrace, and Dean rolls his eyes.

“You’re gonna regret that.” Dean says, grinning.

Before Cas can lower his arms, Dean has him by the waist, tickling him mercilessly. It’s a secret that Castiel – through Gabriel – had to learn the hard way to keep hidden, his ticklishness. Dean is pretty ruthless, but not as merciless as Gabriel thank heavens. The war ends with them both collapsed in sprawled positions on the bed. Castiel’s sides hurt from laughing, and his face is streaked with tears. He managed to occasionally fend Dean off with a few kisses where he could, and then once he found out Dean’s feet were ticklish it was more of a fair game, but now they are both exhausted.

“Hey, you wanna watch a movie?” Dean asks, breathless, swatting Cas’s thigh with his hand.

Castiel thinks for a moment. He could probably do his practice Physics questions tomorrow morning. “Two conditions.”

“Anything.” Dean replies sincerely, and Castiel’s cheeks warm a little.

He keeps forgetting that Dean is actually kind of really into him. It’s just such an absurd notion to entertain. “One, you keep your adorable little t-shirt on.”

Dean laughs, and then groans, probably because it hurts his sides. “Y’know if you keep tellin’ me to put my shirt on I’m gonna get the wrong idea, Cas.”

Castiel ignores him, but does shift his position so that he’s sat pressed against Dean, in a similar position to how they were playing Truth or Dare on Halloween. Castiel shakes that thought off before he thinks of more positions they found themselves in that night. Dean’s arm winds around his shoulders and he trembles a little.

“Two, I get to pick the movie.”

“Really?” Dean asks. “Okay, but can I ask why?”

“I seem to recall that last time you picked the movie, it ended somewhat abruptly at a very strategic point in the evening-”

“Alright, alright,” Dean interrupts, grinning at his own brilliance, “c’mon, that’s a good play though, right?”

Castiel makes a ‘hmmph’ sound, and Dean squeezes his shoulders. “How many girls have you used that on? Or how many boys for that matter.”

“Just you.” Dean says simply, and Castiel shouldn’t feel warmed by that, but he does. “I made it specially for you. Needed an excuse to get over to your place cause I was goin’ fuckin’ nuts. I don’t mess with Skywalker’s mission for just anyone, Cas.”

Cas smiles a little. It’s so stupid, Dean can’t really think that’s actually all that charming, can he? Castiel looks up into his face and sees a smile there. He leans forwards, pressing their lips together, just because he can.

Cas leans away this time, and it takes a few seconds for Dean’s eyes to flutter open again. Cas smiles at him. “So where are your DVD’s?”

* * *

 

It’s as Castiel is coming back from the bathroom, having just cleaned his teeth (Dean gave him a spare toothbrush) in preparation for bed, that Gabriel rounds on him.

“So, are you all set for stage one of the plan?” Gabriel asks, cornering him in the small space just beside the bathroom door.

“Um…” Castiel says, feeling uncomfortable. “Gabe, I’m actually not sure if…”

All of a sudden his brother is shaking him by the shoulders, leaving Castiel very disoriented after two hours in a darkened room staring at Dean’s laptop. “Would you ever do _anything_ if I wasn’t here to make you?” Gabriel asks, clearly frustrated. “For once, we have a plot that serves us mutually, Cassy! I want revenge on Alpha-no-brain for kicking you in the heart, and you wanna get back on the saddle – literally speaking.”

Castiel makes a gagging sound. It’s just so wrong hearing your flesh and blood talk about that stuff. “I know, but-”

“Castiel Novak, don’t you dare chicken out on me.” Gabriel says, pointing his finger so close to Cas’s face he fears it will drive straight into his pupil. “You saw him earlier, all shirtless and swanning about in front of you when he refuses to let you in his pants! Doesn’t that piss you off?”

“Yes, but Gabe, I confronted him and he said-”

“He said that he was just doing laundry? That he wanders around with no shirt on all the time? That he didn’t even know you were here?” Gabriel asks, and Castiel just sighs – there’s no point in even trying to get a word in edgeways. “Of course he knew you were here! He said himself he’d been trying to get hold of you, he probably guessed you’d come to find him.”

Castiel thinks about this, considering the possibility. He supposes that _might_ be true, but still… “It doesn’t make any sense, he’s the one who wanted the damn ‘no sex’ rule in the first place, why would he torture me?”

“Because he’s Dean Winchester and he likes to see and hear people swooning over his perfection.” Gabriel says, his teeth clenched in places. “To dangle himself in front of you and not even allow you to do the dirty when you’re alone, it’s not just unfair Cassy, it’s _cruel._ ”

Castiel tries not to, but he can’t help thinking about the make out session that occurred behind Dean’s closed door earlier, how worked up Dean had gotten him and then how coldly he’d turned away.

“It’s not… all that fair I suppose.” Castiel admits, biting his lip.

“Right!” Gabriel says, slapping him on the shoulder. “But it’s all good, because we have a plan, right?”

Castiel casts a look towards Dean’s bedroom door, torn. He turns back to his brother, who is patiently waiting. He sighs, giving in. Well, how much longer can he be expected to survive this drought? He has to do _something._

“Right.”

“Good,” Gabriel says, shoulders sagging of their tension, “now get back in the bathroom and do as I told you. Then get in there and try your damndest to seduce that pig-headed moron.”

Castiel gives his brother a warning look. “Gabriel, we need to talk about the names you’re allowed to call my boyfriend.”

“Eugh, well I certainly won’t be using _that_ name for him.” Gabriel replies, shuddering slightly. Castiel decides to just leave, he can tackle the Gabriel problem later. Right now, he has an Alpha to bring to his knees.

* * *

 

Castiel closes Dean's bedroom door behind himself. He’s probably been quite a while, he thinks, what with talking to Gabriel and then going back into the bathroom again for some secret activities.

He locks eyes with Dean, who is still on the bed where Cas left him, laptop on his lap, scrolling with one lazy finger. He looks mighty bored, and Castiel smirks. It’s like this moment was created by the Heavens.

As soon as Dean catches sight of Cas, his eyebrows raise, and then he chuckles. “What’s this, payback?” 

“Hm?” Castiel asks, his voice nonchalant. “Oh, I hope you don't mind, I had a quick shower.”

Dean swallows a little, his eyes flicking across Cas's bared chest, resting on the place his skin meets the fluffy white towel tied loosely around his hips. Castiel made sure he didn't dry himself too thoroughly, so droplets fall to the carpet from his ruffled hair, his chest and shoulders. He tries not to smirk at Dean's effort to conceal his reaction. The older boy is clearly trying to keep his attention on the screen before him, but failing, every few seconds his eyes being drawn back to Castiel's form, still stood by the door. 

"Course not." Dean says, the words spoken fast and sharp, almost blurring into each other. "Gonna get your pyjamas on now?"

“Actually I was going to sleep in my boxers.” Castiel replies smoothly, casually sauntering into the middle of the room, running a hand through his hair. He runs a thumb under the top of his towel, teasing. Dean doesn't look away for a second. “That’s alright isn’t it? I mean, it’s what you did at my place and I don’t have any pyjamas with me. I'm assuming you don't have any here since you don't wear any.”

Castiel glances up at Dean when he doesn’t respond, beginning to unfold his towel ever so slowly as he does so. The older boy seems to be desperately thinking of a way to get out of this, but clearly he’s coming up blank. His eyes dart about, always coming back to rest on Cas’s fingers as they open the towel, inch by inch, eventually dropping it to the floor.

“Doesn’t Gabriel have any?” Dean blurts, and Castiel pauses, thinking ‘crap’, because they hadn’t thought of that. He glances at Dean, seeing that the older boy is trying to fixate all of his attention on the wall beside him, steadfastly not looking at Castiel, who is now completely naked in the middle of the room. 

Castiel smiles to himself mischievously. He's going to have to step it up. He lowers his voice to a soft, hopefully seductive rumble, trying to add a hint of wit. “Would _you_ want to put on Gabriel’s clothing?”

Nice save, Cas thinks to himself, though Dean still doesn't turn, which is annoying. He sees the other boy shiver a little though, which is a small victory.

“You uh, wanna watch another movie or somethin’?” Dean tries, his voice sounding desperate.

Castiel decides he needs to begin phase two, and stretches his arms up high, feigning a yawn, making sure his body is stretched out, on full display as he does so. He groans as he does it, far too loudly to be considered normal he's sure, but Dean doesn't exactly complain. It's as Cas starts rolling his shoulders around, loosening his neck that Dean seems to snap. The older boy turns, biting his lip and staring at Cas's naked form, seeming to choke on a stifled moan as he notices what's happening. Castiel continues to stretch, being as obscene as he can without explicitly gesturing for Dean to come and climb on top of him. As he finishes, he lets out a little satisfied 'mmm' sound, one that, upon casting an eye over Dean, seems to get him very agitated very quickly.

Dean's lower lip is caught between his teeth. His eyes look tortured, his posture is hunched and unnatural. The laptop has fallen to one side, nearly over the edge of the bed. Success, Cas thinks, smiling internally.

“Nah,” Cas says in response to Dean’s earlier question, making the older boy jump in surprise, “let’s do something _else_.”

He lets it hang there, not going into details, allowing Dean’s mind to wander between every possibility. At that point, Cas steps forwards, leaning over Dean and then climbing up onto the bed, straddling him.

“Woah, what’re you doin’?” Dean asks, his voice at odd pitch.

Castiel cocks his head to one side, gesturing at the space beside Dean, next to the wall. He shrugs. “Getting into bed.”

With that, he rolls over into the space, untangling himself from Dean altogether. He smiles to himself. He knows that what he just felt wasn’t a stick of mints in Dean’s pocket.

Cas leans back casually, making sure the covers cover as little of him as possible. Dean seems kind of frozen, unable to do anything at all except stare. Cas's body is still damp, beads of moisture pearled at certain places over his chest and shoulders, his hair still dark and curling with water. 

“So,” Cas prompts, blinking at Dean, “what do you wanna do?”

Dean’s gaze rakes over Cas’s body so hungrily it’s actually making Cas blush a little, but he keeps up his calm demeanour somehow, gripping the sheets underneath the covers so he doesn’t betray himself and leap on Dean, ruining everything.

"I thought you were gonna wear underwear." Dean whispers, sounding traumatised. Castiel has to actively stop his heart from reaching out and soothing him. This can all be over so soon, so easily, he thinks, Dean just has to give in to it.

"I heard sleeping naked is good for you." Castiel replies, smiling, and Dean seems to sag a little.

Dean has to be the one to break here, that’s obvious. So Castiel tries again. He smirks, lowering his eyelids a little and leans towards Dean, bringing his lips close to Dean’s ear.

“We could kiss some more?” Castiel suggests as innocently as possible, and Dean actually makes a small squeaking noise at the idea.

“No, I don’t think…” Dean trails off, his eyes locking with Cas’s, their faces very close together. “I don’t think that’s such a good, um…”

Castiel closes the distance between them easily – Dean barely resists at all, though he makes a noise of desperate succumbing as soon as their lips touch. Before Cas knows it, he’s on his back, Dean leaned over him, kissing him furiously into the pillow, his hands all over Cas’s bared skin. It’s such a glorious feeling that Cas nearly cries out with it, God, he’s missed this, and it hasn’t even been that long, not really.

Dean’s lips move across Cas’s jawline, biting softly at the hard bone, getting sharper as he reaches Cas’s neck, the skin below his ear. Cas is getting hard in a matter of seconds, and it's a brilliant, brilliant feeling, long overdue. 

“What is that…?” Dean whispers, only breaking the kissing for moments at a time before delving back in. “What’s that…” Dean inhales for a moment, taking it deeply, his tongue dancing out to lick a stripe along Cas’s pulse. It makes Cas shudder uncontrollably, and he wraps his leg around Dean’s, pulling him in. “What’s that smell? It’s so…” Dean bites at his neck and Cas moans, nails raking over Dean’s ridiculous t-shirt. “So delicious… I feel like I know it but-”

Dean leans up, sudden and unannounced. Castiel wants to punch him, he really does. Not again! Surely not. He closes his eyes, thinking that this is the moment he will drown in his own arousal, but when he opens them, Dean’s face is kind of pissed.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice has hardened significantly. Cas sits up as best he can, raising his eyebrows at Dean in a non-verbal ‘what is it?’ “Did you… are you wearing the honey lube?”

Castiel, for many reasons, decides it’s better to wait a few seconds before replying. He scoffs, batting the air. “What?! No! You’re crazy.”

“Oh my God, you are!” Dean accuses, eyes wide. “Jeez, Cas that is- well, I’ll admit it’s sneaky as fuck and a damn good idea because my mind definitely associates that smell and taste with- but never mind that!” Dean’s expression changes, now he looks frustrated. “I thought we talked about this earlier! How we don’t _try_ to unfairly seduce the other person while we’ve got this rule!”

“But Dean,” Castiel cries in response, because he’s not going to let himself come off as the sole bad guy here, “why can’t you see that when it comes to you, there’s no seduction needed! I’ve been so, so attracted to you for as long as I have known you, it barely takes anything for you get me out of my pants, as you should well know – and that’s why this whole thing is so unfair!”

“Cas, I’m crazy about you too! But just trust me, this is worth the wait-”

“That’s easy for you to say _now,_ Dean!” Castiel cries, using the covers to shield his dignity. “But it’s too late for that, we already _didn’t_ wait, and it’s just cruel of you to do this after-”

“Oh come on, _cruel_ is a little far don’t you think-”

“After I gave you _everything_!” Castiel cries, and as soon as he says it he kind of wishes he hadn’t.

Wow, he thinks to himself, maybe his anger with Dean isn’t in the past after all.

Dean appears a little stunned, and rightly so. He doesn’t reply for a while, and when he does, his voice is quieter, ashamed. “I’m not tryin’ to hurt you, Cas.”

“I know.” Cas says, his eyes downcast. He feels kind of ridiculous now. Gabriel’s plans never fail to do that to him. He should remember that really. “I just think that this ‘rule’ is getting between us, making us fight and… I don’t see how you can still think this is a good thing. If you don’t want me physically anymore then… just stop pretending.”

“Cas, don’t even think that.” Dean says, running a hand through his hair. “Of course it’s not that, I just-”

“But,” Cas interrupts gently, “if you really do want to wait because you think it’s going to be better if we do… maybe you need to reconsider that. It’s not gonna be like last time, Dean, you said so yourself. I trust you, you’re not gonna treat me badly.” Dean presses his lips together, looking very much like he doesn’t trust himself to believe that. Cas is getting good at reading Dean’s emotions, even if he refuses to say them aloud. “You’re right about one thing I think – with us it’s an all or nothing kind of deal. So maybe we should just… y’know, try all or nothing.”

“Cas, I can’t hurt you again, I can’t let myself go back to that… person who treats you like you’re nothing. It’s too dangerous.” Dean says, and his eyes are filling with tears. “Just give me a little time and-”

“Dean, if I say yes then you’ll never be ready.” Castiel says, and hushes Dean as he tries to protest. “I don’t want to make you do something you don’t feel ready for, of course not, but I just… I’m sorry Dean, I don’t think I can… handle it. It’s so weird admitting that, but it’s true.” Dean’s eyes are filled with pain, and it’s almost too much to bear. “I think… I’m gonna go home. We can talk tomorrow but obviously it’s not a very good idea for me to stay here tonight.”

“No, please don’t go.” Dean says, as Cas starts to move, attempting to stay under the covers whilst getting out of the bed. It’s no use, he has to let them fall away, sighing as he walks over to get his jeans. “We don’t even have to sleep in the same bed, I’ll go on the floor-”

“No, really.” Cas says, his voice firm as he pulls on his clothes. “It’s better if I go.”

Dean’s eyes slip closed, and Castiel’s heart pines for him. He steps towards Dean, leaning over to kiss him softly on the forehead. “Come see me tomorrow.”

Dean nods, sighing deeply. “Night, angel. Get home safe.”

* * *

 

Castiel sleeps restlessly, and wakes to a pillow reeking of honey lubricant, thanks to putting the stuff on way too liberally in Dean’s bathroom last night and forgetting to scrub it off once he got back to his room.

He checks his phone, noting that Dean has texted him, apologising for the way things ended up last night, though really, Cas thinks, he should be the one apologising to Dean. How could he have said that he didn’t think he could handle it anymore? Is he mad? He just got Dean back again and he's already risking letting him go?

But then again, Cas thinks, sighing, he remembers what happened last night. Even thinking about his and Dean’s frantic make out sessions – either of them – has him getting hot and bothered, so it makes sense that he got worked up enough to want to say something last night.

Why is this so hard? Cas thinks, frustrated enough to bring tears to his eyes. He loves Dean! Dean loves him! They’ve both admitted that haven’t they? Isn’t this the part where they ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after?

There’s a knock on his door just as Castiel is settling down to work on his Physics questions before he needs to set off for class. He swallows, crossing to answer it, his mind still buzzing with all the words tossed back and forth in Dean’s bedroom.

“Hey- oh. Um, wow. I mean, hi.” It’s Dean. Stunning as ever, and wearing his goddamn Letterman just to really rub salt in the wound. Cas mentally slaps himself. Angry and sexually frustrated or not, this glorious creature is still his boyfriend, he at least deserves a smile, or a hug. “I, um, brought you some c-coffee.”

Cas’s gaze drops to the Starbucks cups he hadn’t noticed Dean grasping in his hands. He smiles for real then, an unforced one. “You’re adorable.”

 Cas steps aside to let Dean into his room, but notices for the first time that Dean seems a little agitated. He’s not very observant this morning. “Are you alright?”

“Uh, um, yes? Yes.” Dean says after a few seconds, though his eyes are sort of roving over Cas’s body continuously. It’s a little strange. Cas tries to wave in front of his eyeline, bringing his gaze up to meet his own eyes. It works, after a few tries. “Sorry, uh, you look… nice.”

Castiel looks down at himself. He’s in fairly normal clothes, jeans – okay, they’re his tight ones, but Dean has seen him in these before… right? – a long grey-blue t-shirt with a few coolly administered rips in places, and a woolly cardigan. Oh, and his glasses of course.

“Thank you?” Castiel says, caught a little off guard by the compliment. “…Are you coming in or…?”

“Um, no.” Dean replies, shooting him a tight smile. He thrusts Cas’s coffee at him. “I’ve got uh, class. Got you a soy cappuccino, extra shot, just how you like it.”

Cas takes the coffee, surprised. “How did you…?”

“Gabe told me.” Dean blurts. “Uh, look I gotta run, I know you wanna talk more – will you come over tonight? I’ll um, I’ll make food.”

Castiel hesitates, partly because he’s so taken aback by the very idea of Dean anywhere near an oven, but mostly because Dean specified an evening rendez-vous. Is it going to end up like last night? Well, Castiel supposes he can always come back here. He and Dean do need to talk.

“Alright.” Cas agrees, giving Dean a smile.

“Awesome.” Dean says, grinning a little too much to be considered normal, and then he grabs hold of Castiel, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him in, kissing him hard and slow, so deeply it’s as if he is expecting it to be the last time. It worries Castiel a little, but it doesn’t stop him from enjoying it. “See you tonight, gorgeous.”

Castiel waves him off a little dreamily, swaying on his feet a little. Despite any no sex rules, Dean Winchester sure knows how to sweep Castiel off his feet.

* * *

 Class is boring, inevitably so, but it’s only when he gets there that he actually pieces together what Dean had said this morning. He ran off so quickly because he said he had a class… what class? Castiel happens to know that Dean has BioChem today at exactly 1pm.

He came round at 8:30am this morning, with coffees, which would normally mean that he wanted to talk, right? So something happened during the short time he was at Cas’s to scare him off, or at the very least to get him fleeing the building faster than Cas could blink.

Dean didn’t look worried though, he didn’t look sad or angry or like there was something dreadful looming on the horizon. In fact, he looked, more than anything else, insanely happy about something. It’s as though, Cas thinks, his pen doodling something nonsensical in the margins of his notepad, he had some kind of epiphany whilst lurking in Cas’s doorway offering coffee, and ran away to do something about it.

Cas’s pen drops. Is he reading into things too much?

“Class dismissed!” Shouts Crowley, and Castiel guiltily realises he hasn’t heard anything that’s been said for the past twenty minutes. He shuts his notebook quickly, resolving that he will get the notes from Meg later, no matter how much it pains him. For now though, he needs a quick word with his professor, and walks over to the  front desk. He pauses a few feet away, staring at the desk, his cheeks slowly reddening as he remembers just what he had been doing on it not two days ago-

“Castiel!” Cas looks up, shocked, into Crowley’s waiting face. He notices that he’s now alone in the classroom with his Professor. “Decided to show up today I see. I suppose it’s not surprising that you managed to catch truanting off of Winchester. Amongst other things no doubt.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Actually professor, I was going to ask if I could perhaps… try again with Dean.” Crowley raises his eyebrows; Castiel blushes further. “With the tutoring, I mean.”

“Hmm.” Crowley says. “Normally Castiel, I would say there’s no way in Hell. First of all I have mountains of proof that you two are in some sort of hideous, sordid relationship, and giving you two an hour alone in an empty classroom is just moronic by anyone’s standards.” Castiel rolls his eyes again. “However, and though it pains me to tell you this, I have to admit that whatever you did to him actually helped. Dean’s grades are actually improving.”

“So… is that a yes?” Castiel asks, perhaps a little cheekily. He hasn’t got time to play games here.

“That’s a conditional yes.” Crowley corrects. “I think it may be in your best interests to have supervised sessions… at least until I know you can be trusted. Well, I suppose it’s not you that I don’t trust. After all, you have a key to the classroom.”

“Excellent!” Castiel says, grinning widely. He can work on Crowley about the supervision at a later time. “I think I can really help him.” Castiel pauses for as long as he can manage, trying to be nonchalant. “On that note, can I ask if he was in class today?”

Crowley scoffs. “Is he ever? No, Castiel. The strongest motivation I’ve been able to give him to get to class is telling him you are his tutor.” Crowley pauses, turning to his desk and picking up some papers right beside where Castiel’s head had been when Dean was on top of him and- “I would suggest you go and tell him that again if you expect him to turn up next week.”

“Right. Good idea.” Castiel says, a little distracted by his own memories, but latching on to what Crowley said nonetheless. Dean wasn’t in class today, which means he didn’t actually go to school when he left Castiel’s room this morning. “I’ve… got to run, I’ll see you next Tuesday, Professor!”

Crowley, for some reason, looks at him sternly as he retreats hastily out of the door.

* * *

 

Despite wanting to, Castiel doesn’t go and search for Dean after class. Instead, he goes straight home. He’s just going to do what Dean had said this morning, meet him at the Fraternity for dinner. He’ll go home for a few hours, change, maybe watch something, just chill out. Then, when the time comes, he can trek over to Dean’s. And Dean will be there. He _will._ Just because he lied about where he was going this morning doesn’t mean he lied about anything else.

And yeah, maybe he didn’t turn up to class but that’s just Dean for you. Absence is his middle name.

Castiel isn’t freaking out, really. He runs into Becky in the hallway of his flat, and waves to her politely.

“Ooh, Castiel!” She shrieks at him. “What happened with that hot senior guy who came by looking for you on Monday?! Are you guys, like, a _thing_ now?” Becky is practically bouncing up and down with excitement at this prospect for some unfathomable reason. “You guys would be so, so cute together, oh my gosh! I have decided, Castiel,” and she leans up on the balls of her feet, her face solemn, “that I will ship you and Mr Hot Football Fratboy.”

Castiel quite honestly doesn’t know what to say. Becky clearly thinks of this as some prestigious honour. He hasn’t got the patience to do anything more than go along with her absurdity.

“Wow, Becky. I’m touched, truly.”

Becky looks smug and pleased, shrugging in a way that both says ‘no big deal’ and also ‘it’s a huge deal’, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. “So, are you gonna let me know then?! What’s the deal with you two?”

Castiel sighs. In hindsight, maybe humouring Becky is a terrible idea. “Dean and I…”

“Oh my God, _Dean_! That’s such a cute name, I can totally work with this.” Becky squeals, interrupting him. “Check back with me in a few days for your official ship name. I have to go! I have _so_ much fan art to start working on!”

Castiel, mouth still open, watches in amazement as Becky spins on her heel and dashes into her room with no more than a quick wave goodbye. Huh, he thinks, eyebrows creased, it seems that Becky doesn’t actually need a confirmed romantic relationship in order to ‘ship’ it. What a strange world she must live in.

He shrugs it off, wandering to the other side of the hall and unlocking his own room, stepping inside with another weary sigh. He has to keep his mind off where Dean is or he’ll go insane. But when has he ever been able to actively stop himself from thinking about Dean? It’s hopeless, he thinks, sinking onto his bed, he feels exactly like he did when he first started seeing Dean – obsessed and insane with curiosity, topped off with a hefty serving of consuming, spine-tingling _need._

Hey, now _that’s_ something he could do to take his mind off things for a while, Cas thinks, not missing the way goosebumps erupt over his skin in excitement at the prospect. He’s been so agitated recently, feeling like he’s about to snap at everyone, and he would bet it’s not helped by the length of time he’s gone without quenching his Dean-thirst, as it were. Of course, his own hand is barely a substitute for Dean actually there with him, but it’s got to be better than nothing.

He decides to give it a go, if only for the sake of distracting himself, and maybe improving his mood before going to meet Dean tonight, meaning he might not try so desperately – and embarrassingly – to throw himself at the older boy again.

He unbuttons his jeans, shimmying them down his thighs and throwing them aside, then deciding if he’s really going to do this, he should take his underwear off too. He does so, feeling slightly awkward about being so alone and so exposed – maybe he should dim the lights or something? No, he chastises himself, that’s ridiculous, he’s the only person here.

Why was it so much easier to do this even a week ago? He was just so consumed with thoughts of Dean back then, so filled with fresh memories of their trysts, unable to stop fantasies of the gorgeous boy from consuming his mind for even a second- oh, he thinks as his dick twitches violently. There we go.

Sure enough, as soon as the merest thought of Dean enters his brain, everything else just slips away. All he can think of are those strong hands, smoothing, raking over his skin, gripping his waist, tugging at his hair. He thinks of Dean’s fingers entering him, slippery and teasing, pushing into him, filling him up, finding that place inside of him that makes him scream.

He groans softly, his hand moving over his dick of its own accord, and though it’s good, the fantasy is just so much better.

Why can’t he have that?

He pushes the thought away, annoyed at himself. Dean doesn’t want that right now, and Cas should stop banging on about it. It will happen again someday, but not yet. Cas should be patient. His mind blossoms another fantasy for him, this time where Dean is standing over him, crowding him back against a wall, just like Cas saw him do with Anna, right down to the football uniform.

Dream-Dean’s hand reaches into his waistband, clasping Cas’s erection and, all while smirking deliciously in that way of his, starts to jerk him, hard and rhythmic, finding the perfect speed, the perfect grip.

Cas tries to mimic his mind’s own movements, but it just isn’t the same. He can never do it like Dean can, and he knows that it wouldn’t be any fun if he could. It’s just so _frustrating_. He groans again, out of defeat this time, releasing his grip on himself and sitting up straight. This isn’t working. He’s not going to have any relief from this unending frustration until Dean is ready to start things up physically again.

He just wishes that his body wouldn’t make him suffer like this in the meantime. Why does he have to be so obsessed? Why can’t he have a normal attraction to Dean like everyone else?

But then, his mind tells him, if he were like everyone else, Dean wouldn’t have wanted him in the first place. He sighs. No, he’s not wishing for anything to change.

…Except maybe for Dean to have a change of heart about the sex thing and burst in to Cas’s room right now, declaring he must take him right here and now on the bed.

Cas waits, staring at the door. It doesn’t happen.

* * *

 

After a long, cold shower, Cas eventually emerges from the bathroom, still fidgety and disgruntled, an itch under his skin that he can’t scratch now matter how hard he tries not to think of it. It’s getting worse too, he thinks mournfully, adjusting the towel around his hips.

He sighs, glancing over at his clock, and realising he should probably think about getting ready. Dean hadn’t specified a time earlier, but surely he’ll be needing to go soon. Castiel decides he might as well just ring Dean – _only_ to find out the time, nothing more. He’s not going to ask any questions about Dean’s whereabouts today. No, he’ll play it cool, casual. As if he’s not going out of his mind over the guy.

As soon as he picks up his phone, he notices he has two texts. The first is from Dean, and Castiel’s stomach actually flips when he sees it, which makes him roll his eyes at himself. Honestly, it’s a freaking text message. Get a grip, he scalds himself.

 **Dean Winchester (!)**  
Get to mine about seven, gorgeous.  
Can’t wait xxx

Castiel sighs at the message. He has to physically force himself not to thoroughly analyse every word. Just read the next one, he tells himself forcefully, in no mood for his own foolishness this evening.

The other text is from Gabriel, and Castiel frowns at it.

 **The Trickster :{D**  
What happened last night, Cassy?!  
I just heard from Dean that you went  
home?? Didn’t stay over???? What  
about the PLAN!  
Seriously though, hope you’re ok  
little bro.  
xxx

Castiel just huffs at that one. He’s not going to bother replying. He should never have let Gabriel convince him that trying to seduce Dean in order to torture him was a good idea. Hell, he should just listen to his own common sense for once and _never_ listen to Gabriel.

He decides to text Dean a quick reply of ‘See you then xxx’ and then he turns back to his room, wondering what the Hell he should wear. Dean said he was cooking? Does that make it a date? But aren’t they also going to have a serious talk of some sort? And he surely shouldn’t dress up too much in case Dean thinks he’s trying to seduce him again – a laughable notion – but still.

Well, whatever he wears, it needs to be more than just this towel, he tells himself, glancing at the clock again, getting anxious about the time. It’s 6pm now, and he’s still got to dry his hair, get dressed, agonise over his appearance for ten minutes, have a mild anxiety attack about going to see Dean Winchester whilst knowing full well he’s not allowed to have sex with him, and – let’s face it – probably will away a few hard-ons in that time.

He sighs, seeing it’s 6:02pm. He needs to get a move on.

* * *

 

Castiel arrives at the Frat house jittery and sure the night is going to end badly. He suspects it will go a similar way to last night, and he’ll end up having to leave again because being in such close proximity to Dean is actually unbearable. He knocks on the door regardless, stomach churning with nerves, because even the strongest, most sickening anxiety couldn’t keep him away from a chance of seeing Dean Winchester in the flesh, especially when there’s a damn good chance he’ll get at least one kiss from him.

There’s no answer, so Castiel decides to just head straight in, the same as he did last time. The entrance hall is eerily dark, and not like on Halloween when the lighting was carefully manipulated. It just looks as though no one has turned the lights on after night fell. Castiel hesitates, but steps inside nonetheless, feeling the door close behind him.

“Uh, hello?” Castiel calls out, now a tad scared on top of everything else.

Where are the Frat boys? The frantically dusting Pledges? The neon signs illuminating the walls and banisters? Castiel can vaguely make out the shape of the staircase in front of him, but it seems pretty deserted.

“In here, Cas.”

Castiel lets out a sigh of relief, hearing Dean’s voice emanating from the room on his left. He peers into the gloom, noticing for the first time that there’s a warm, orangey and flickering light filtering out from where Dean’s voice came. Castiel, intrigued, moves carefully towards it, wary of tripping over things in the dark. It seems like the whole house is dark, which is so strange, thinks Cas. He’s never seen it so… quiet before. It’s actually kind of beautiful.

Castiel remembers this room he’s heading into as the ‘punch room’, simply because it’s where the punch bowl was located at the infamous Halloween party. He has fond – and not so fond – memories of this room, both of which make him smile slightly as he steps through the archway into it. At that point, he stops in his tracks.

His heart skips a beat, and Castiel always thought his favourite poets were exaggerating when they talked about that happening, but here he is, heart faltering him for a split second. Most of the furniture around the room has been pushed back against the walls, leaving the floor one big empty space. There are candles everywhere Cas can see a surface, and there is a huge ring of tealights on the floor, practically stretched across the entirety of the room itself. In the centre of the candles lay a vast array of cushions, piled into one huge, soft area.

There’s also a rug, which is strewn with the most marvellous looking foods Castiel thinks he may have ever seen and which Dean definitely cannot have cooked by himself. An ice bucket holding a bottle of champagne rests in the centre, surrounded by bowls of strawberries, plates of chocolates, creamy substances, cakes and so much else that Castiel can’t bring himself to focus on, because there, in the midst of it all, sits Dean.

He wears a slightly unbuttoned white shirt and has even attempted a tie, though it’s no longer done up and Castiel doubts it ever was. Dean is smiling at him, a little bashful perhaps, but clearly happy nonetheless. Castiel is torn – he half wants to run towards Dean, to kiss him senseless for this miraculous, incredible surprise, and half of him wants to stay put, never letting this moment – the one where he first takes it all in – to ever end.

“Dean…” Castiel says, the word carried away by his own breath. He is awestruck, utterly – how is he supposed to react to this.

“You are the most adorable flustered person I have ever seen.” Dean says, still smiling, and then he pats the spot beside him, amongst the cushions. “Come over here, would you? I wanna tell you somethin’.”

Castiel goes, without meaning to, his feet move, pulled across the room by Dean’s beckoning. This is the most romantic thing he’s ever seen, and he wants to show Dean how much it means to him, but he feels so useless. He turned up here with nothing but himself and a slightly cranky attitude as a result of not being able to ‘get it on’ with the person before him.

And here Dean is, being so wonderful Cas can hardly believe it, making it so Cas can’t possibly hope to repay him. He shouldn’t think like this, he knows that, but it helps nothing. His feet guide him carefully over the candles, and at last he stands before Dean, watching, mesmerised, as Dean lifts his hands to Castiel, entwining their fingers.

“Come here.” Dean says softly, tugging very gently on his hands, and Castiel has no say in the matter. His knees weaken and he falls to the ground, or more accurately to the cushions. Dean manoeuvres him, until they’re sitting and sort of leaning, face to face, on their little bed encased in candles. “I love you, Cas.”

Castiel’s eyes swarm with hot tears – what’s happening here? He’s overloaded with emotion, he simply wasn’t prepared for this. He looks down at one of the embroidered cushions, not wanting Dean to see his pathetic reaction.

“Dean, this is… it’s amazing.” Castiel says, and Dean puts a finger under his chin, tilting his face up again, their eyes meeting. “I love it, it’s… I don’t even know what to say.” Dean smiles at him, the finger under his chin stroking across his cheekbones, over his brows. “But… why have you… why? You don’t need to- to…”

“Shh.” Dean quiets him, silencing him with a kiss, and it’s a pretty damn effective technique, Cas must admit. “You deserve it, Cas. You deserve this stuff every day. And I’m gonna try so hard to give you everythin’ you deserve. But I realised today,” Dean says, and this time when he smiles he looks away, as if embarrassed, “that to give you all this stuff – the cute dates and romantic walks on the beach stuff – I don’t have to take away the, uh, _other stuff_ in order to keep it special. We can have both, and you’re so right – one without the other… it doesn’t work. We tried one without the other the first time which was a disaster, and this… this is so not working either.”

Castiel’s heart is starting to pick up its pace. Could Dean really be saying…? “Just to clarify,” Castiel asks, “by ‘other stuff’, you mean…”

“Sex.” Dean says helpfully, and Castiel’s eyes flutter.

“O- oh.” Castiel replies, trying his hardest to appear casual about the situation even though his blood is screaming through his veins. “Y-you’re sure?”

Dean grins at him. “Unless you wanna keep waitin’.” Castiel barely stops himself from yelling in protest. Dean chuckles at his expression, which must be one of horror. “No,” Dean says, closing his eyes briefly, his jaw tightening, “I think we’ve been pretty patient. Honestly Cas, I don’t know if I _can_ wait much longer… this rule is drivin’ me fuckin’ nuts.”

Castiel gapes at him, then shoves him in the shoulder, hard. He retracts his hand quickly, not allowing himself to linger because he _will_ just end up trying to tear Dean’s shirt off.

“Driving _you_ nuts?!” Castiel exclaims, disbelieving. “Are you kidding me? I can’t think about anything else! I’m going insane.”

Dean bites his lip, gazing at Cas, something like wistfulness in his expression. “Yup. That sounds about right.”

Cas pauses, trying to understand. “Are you trying to tell me… you’re experiencing the same thing?”

Dean nods, eyes roving over Cas’s body shamelessly. Castiel shoves him again, annoyed.

“Ow!”

“You deserve that!” Castiel accuses. “This whole thing was your idea.”

“I know,” Dean says mournfully, and one of his hands inch over one of the pillows, towards Castiel, until it rests gingerly on his leg, “I’m an idiot, Cas.” The hand begins an upward trajectory, sliding over Cas’s shin, the back of his knee, over his thigh. Castiel’s breath stutters, his words faltering before they come to fruition. Dean leans in, the hand on his thigh tightening its grip as Dean’s lips move close to his face. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

Castiel breaks easily, of course he does, moaning in approval before snatching up Dean’s infernal mouth with his own, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck and pulling him in. Dean’s hand continues its movements, stroking over his ass and gripping tightly, making Cas jerk his hips in surprise.

“Dean,” Cas mutters through the kisses, and Dean hears him somehow, answering with a grunt, “’s much as I ‘ppreciate the candle picnic…” Dean’s other hand slides into Cas’s hair, fingers raking against a bundle of nerves at the back of his neck, and Cas shudders. “…mmmf, should we… go somewhere…?”

Castiel leaves the question open-ended. To be perfectly honest, he’s so far gone that he’s not even that fussed. If a Psi Delta Alpha brother walked in right now, Cas is only ninety percent sure he would stop making out with Dean. Maybe even eighty percent.

Dean smiles against Cas’s lips, which is just an irresistible feeling, so Cas kisses him harder, sliding his own hands over Dean’s chest, hurrying to unbutton the shirt he’s wearing. Dean chuckles softly, manoeuvring them until he’s sitting up slightly, back rested against the pillows, Cas straddling him, half leaned over him in order to reach his lips.

“No need, gorgeous.” Dean replies eventually, once he’s satisfied with their position, and Castiel’s mind has to actively work to remember what he is talking about. He can’t believe this is happening, finally. Dean is kissing him, ready and willing, so eager-

Castiel’s hands hover in mid-air, Dean’s own hands clamped around his wrists. No. No, not again. Castiel looks into Dean’s eyes, well aware of the fury in his expression. If Dean is stopping them yet again-

“Hey, hey now.” Dean says, chuckling, though his voice is that calm, authoritative tone that Castiel could literally die for. He slackens in Dean’s hold, having forgotten how much he’s missed this. “You might think you’re ready and rarin’ to go sweetheart, but we haven’t forgotten who makes the rules now, have we?”

Damn, Castiel thinks, yeah he’s never getting out of bed with this guy again. Nothing compares to this. The feeling of being crazy about Dean, of being prepared to do anything for him, it doesn’t make sense in the everyday world, it just seems insane, but here… it’s just normality.

Castiel shakes his head, feeling the responding smirk Dean gives him in the depths of his soul. Oh, fuck, he’s going to be so, so disobedient tonight.

“Good. Now I ordered all my brothers to stay in their rooms tonight on pain of a violent hazing.” Dean explains, releasing Cas’s wrists in order to slide his hands up Cas’s t-shirt. He plays with the cardigan Cas is wearing as he speaks, teasingly pushing it off each shoulder and then pulling it back on. “I made us a cute little picnic, you may have noticed. Well, I ordered the Pledges to, anyway. You hungry, baby?”

Castiel gulps. Food? Dean wants him to think about food right now? Well, the disobedience has got to start at some point, right?

“No.” Cas replies, and sure enough, Dean’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“No?”

“Do you really expect me to think about eating dinner after what you just told me?” Castiel asks, knowing he is most likely speaking out of turn, but hardly caring. If it gets their clothes off faster, so be it.

Dean grins however, perhaps expecting this answer. His hands slide further up Cas’s shirt, brushing over his nipples, which makes Cas squirm in excitement. Writhing around on Dean’s lap was something he’d forgotten the true pleasure of – he can feel that Dean is getting hard through his jeans, so Cas squirms again, watching in rapture as Dean’s eyes flutter a little, a betrayal of his arousal.

Dean’s hands slide out of Cas’s shirt pretty quickly, grasping at his hips, holding them still.

“Who said anything about dinner?” Dean asks innocently, though there’s a betraying gleam in his eye. “I was talkin’bout foreplay.”

Castiel’s limbs go a little numb, and his mouth falls open a short way. Dean watches his reaction with avid interest, seeming to soak it up, store it away. Dean wants to use this stuff on the blanket… sexually? Castiel’s mind boggles a little. He’s never really considered doing anything like that before, but then again a few weeks ago he’d never considered doing lots of the stuff he does with Dean now.

“I think you should take off your clothes, Cas.” Dean says, and though it’s phrased like a suggestion, Cas is sure that it’s a demand. He doesn’t hesitate, hurrying to comply, shrugging out of his cardigan with as much speed as humanly possible. As he removes it, Dean continues to talk. “When I came over this mornin’, that’s when I realised my mistake. About the sex stuff.” Dean explains, just as Castiel tugs himself out of the last sleeve. He gets to work on the t-shirt next, focusing on Dean’s words to get him through any awkwardness he might feel. “I saw you in your little hipster cardigan, your sexy librarian glasses, bein’ all intelligent and shit with your Physics homework… ‘nd I just lost it.”

Cas pulls the t-shirt over his head, throwing it carefully aside, just in case it falls on a candle and sets fire to everything. That might put a downer on the evening. Dean’s arms wrap around his bared waist immediately, his lips connecting with the skin quicker than a blink. Cas’s breath catches in his throat, leaning into Dean’s touch. What is Dean saying? That he was overcome with desire this morning after seeing Cas in his slouchy, unremarkable clothes that he rolled out of bed into?

“I couldn’t even think straight,” Dean mutters against Cas’s skin, his tongue tracing patterns around Cas’s left nipple, making him gasp, clutch at the air, “I wanted to just take you right there, rules be damned.”

Cas moans, the memory of this morning taking on an entirely new meaning for him, one that is so much more enjoyable to think about. Dean had been so desperate upon seeing Castiel this morning that he’d actually had to _leave,_ had to run away and prepare all day for this, what’s happening now.

“I wish you had,” Cas gasps, his hands grasping at the back of Dean’s head, at his neck as he continues to bite and lick at Cas’s chest, “I wish we could have done this a thousand times by now.”

Dean moans softly, “I know. That’s my bad.” He pauses, leaning back and deftly flicking open Cas’s fly. “Take these off and lay down, would you?”

Castiel does so without a thought, shucking off his pants without much difficulty and settling himself back on the pillows, awaiting instruction, every nerve in his body tingling with impatience. Dean leans over him, kissing him slowly, torturously, drawing it out until Cas can’t stand not to drag him down so they’re pressed against one another. He feels Dean resist slightly, an aversion to being manhandled no doubt, but he doesn’t let go, gripping Dean by the collar of his shirt. He continues unbuttoning the shirt now, adamant that Dean be unclothed too, but Dean pulls away, laughing.

“Hold up there, angel.” He leans up a little, wriggling out of Cas’s grip easily. “If there’s one thing we got, it’s time. And I plan on takin’ my sweet time with this, Cas.”

Castiel groans, partly with anticipation and partly with frustration. If Dean wants to take it slow, he’s not going to have any sort of relief for a long time. Just endless, torturous pleasure, building him and building him…

It will be worth it, of course. He just has to remember that whenever Dean gets that glint in his eye. Like right now, for instance. What is he up to? Cas watches with narrowed eyes as Dean leans to the side, scooping up one of the many bowls scattered across the large picnic blanket.

Castiel’s stomach twists with nerves. Dean has a bowl of strawberries in his hand. Cas kind of doesn’t want to know at this point. He trusts Dean, that’s all that matters – it doesn’t mean he’s not going to get nervous about this stuff though. It’s an involuntary thing. He wriggles, shivering as Dean moves himself so that he’s sitting between Cas’s legs.

Dean’s shirt is almost all the way undone, revealing the gleaming, candlelit skin underneath, and the hint of a tattoo peeking out from beneath the fabric. Dean stares down at Cas, making sure he’s watching, and picks up a strawberry from the bowl, so effortlessly casual in his movements. Castiel watches, transfixed, as Dean turns his attention to the strawberry between his finger and thumb, held by the stalk, its plump, red fruit radiating sweetness that Castiel feels he can taste from where he is.

Without speaking a word, Dean lifts the strawberry to his lips, parting them slightly as he fits it inside, lips dragging over the skin of his fingers as he bites down into the blushing flesh of the fruit. Juice spills out in rivulets, one running down his chin, one landing on the pristine white of his shirt, a stain that might never come out.

Cas is surprised he didn’t come right then to be honest. The only noise he seems to be able to make after that display is a strangled, cut off cry. He reaches for Dean desperately, sitting up and stretching his arms out, trying to pull him closer. Dean ducks deftly out of his reach and, with one easy push, sends him flying back down to his bed of cushions – clearly where he’ll be spending much time tonight.

Suddenly Dean is upon him, his lips moist and damp from the fruit, and Castiel aches to taste them, searching with his own mouth only to find Dean pulls away every time he tries. “You like that, Cas? I bet you wanna try a strawberry, huh?”

Castiel nods fervently, anything to get Dean to stop teasing him. Dean grins, loving every second.

“I think you’re gonna have to earn it, Cas baby.” Dean tells him, and Cas looks heavenward, wondering if the torment will ever cease. “They’re real good though, worth the wait.” Castiel growls – he’s heard that before. “Y’know what goes great with strawberries?”

Castiel blinks, caught off guard by the random question. He shakes his head, not knowing what Dean wants him to say.

“Well, see,” Dean leans back towards the blanket, scooping up something else, a small, plain white jug – very mysterious, “I thought, since I’m givin’ my angel the best o’the best… we could have-”

There’s a pause, and Castiel - who is trying to avoid looking at Dean too much for fear he might pass out from the overwhelming nature of the situation (again) - doesn’t understand why. He creases his brow, wondering what the hold up in Dean’s speech is, and then he feels a sharp, cold drop of liquid dribbling onto his stomach. He looks down, jerking forwards a little at the unexpected sensation just in time to watch helplessly as Dean pours white, viscous liquid from the jug directly onto his abdomen in a clear signature of ‘D. W.’

Castiel can’t speak, he’s too stunned, though his breaths are coming hard and fast now, especially when Dean picks up another strawberry, bites into it, and then proceeds to dip his head to Cas’s stomach, his pink tongue darting out and licking up every drop of what he wrote. Cas falls back onto the pillows due to severe muscle giveaway – Dean’s tongue is like a warm, wet firework of sensation dragging across his stomach, apparently intent on getting every single bit of the liquid into his mouth, tracing around every inch of skin until Cas is bucking upwards, shaking with how good it feels.

Then, abruptly, Dean leans away again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in a frankly obscene manner. Cas, who must look pretty wrecked by now, just moans in his general direction, hoping he gets the message of how good that was.

“-Strawberries and cream.” Dean finishes, a little breathless now, but grinning away. He unbuttons his shirt entirely then, as if it’s no big deal, and shrugs himself out of it, throwing the garment aside. Castiel reaches for him again, but he merely smirks, not giving in. “All that fruit’s kinda made me wanna try somethin’ a little more… decadant, y’know?”

Castiel kind of wants to hit him. How long has he been planning the exact order of things he’s going to use on Cas tonight? Probably he’s had this planned all day, made a damn menu for the Pledges to get everything from. It’s not fair, Cas has plans too! He has things he wants so, _so_ badly to do to Dean, and in his opinion, he’s definitely suffered more, so he should get what he wants.

He sulks a little, jaw clenched. Yep, disobedience it is. He purposefully doesn’t look as Dean picks up a bottle from the blanket, actively tries to stop his mind from guessing what it could be.

“Aw, what’s the matter, Cas?” Dean asks, noticing Cas’s pout for the first time. He places the bottle to the side, leaning over Cas’s face again, bringing their lips irritatingly close. “You upset I didn’t give you any strawberries and cream?”

Castiel narrows his eyes. “No.”

Dean smiles, amused as ever by Cas’s petulance. “I see. Then what’s makin’ you turn your pretty little face away, huh?”

Dean’s hand clasps hold of Cas’s chin, angling it so they are inescapably face to face. Cas wishes he could look away, because when Dean is this close he can’t possibly hope to keep up a grudge. For Christ’s sake Dean is basically laid on top of him – their chests are nearly pressed against each other, and Cas can basically taste Dean on his tongue- but he knows that if he tried to kiss him now, Dean would move away.

Bastard. You know what, thinks the less frequently used, more unwise part of Cas’s brain, Dean totally deserves to have a disobedient partner this evening, what with all the shenanigans he’s been pulling.

“ _I_ want to decide what we use next.” Castiel demands suddenly, trying to sound defiant, but managing only to sound bratty. “And I… I want to use it on you.”

Dean is quiet for a moment, smiling very slightly, his eyes flicking over Cas’s face in contemplation. “Is that right?”

His voice is soft now, and it strikes fear into Castiel’s soul. Oh God, what has he done? No, no, he tells himself, be strong, follow through.

He nods once, tempted to fold his arms just to make a point, but he refrains because he’s pretty sure nobody actually does that in real life.

“What a shame.” Dean says, and he sighs, leaning away far too abruptly for Cas’s sanity. He tuts a couple of times, shaking his head. “I was gonna let you use whatever you wanted on me after this, but now…”

Cas closes his eyes, cursing internally with every word he knows. For fuck’s sake, you’d think by this point he’d understand how this works. It’s just Dean gets him so worked _up._

“That could’ve been real fun, Cas.” Dean says pityingly, sitting back on his haunches and sighing again for effect. “Tell you the truth, I was kinda lookin’ forward to it.”

Castiel can’t help it, he can’t stay quiet. He sits up, leaning towards Dean as best he can, clasping his hands together. “I’m sorry Dean, please, I’ll be so, so good from now on-”

“You know the rules, sweetpea.” Dean interrupts, his voice raising a little. “Can’t have you talkin’ back now, can we?”

“No, absolutely not.” Cas answers, his eyes wide and pleading. “I’ll do whatever you want, please, I have to touch you, to taste you-”

Dean holds up a hand, smirking. Cas falls silent, if a little reluctantly. “Gettin’ ahead o’yourself there, aren’t we?” Dean shuffles forwards, winding his arms around Cas and shifting him until he’s laid out – so annoyingly – back on the mound of pillows once more. “We’ll see, shall we? Let’s see how good you can be from now on… and I’m not makin’ promises, angel.”

Cas nods frantically, happily accepting these terms. It’s better than nothing, now at least he’s got half a shot at getting to pour things on Dean and licking them off. The thought alone makes him tense with want.

In the midst of his fantasy, Castiel feels more liquid being poured on him, and he squirms, not just from the cold, but also because now that he’s sensitised, it’s an entirely new feeling. This stuff isn’t as cold as the cream, and when Cas looks through lidded lashes, he sees Dean squeezing a thin stream of dark brown goo out of a bottle.

He dribbles it onto Cas’s collarbone this time, then when Cas’s head tips backwards at the feeling, trails squiggly lines over his throat. The feeling stops abruptly, and Cas tries to ready himself for Dean’s tongue again, only to find that he’s moved away, and is now hooking his fingers underneath the waistband of Cas’s underwear. Cas’s breath hitches, a little nervous for some mad reason, but he pushes the anxiety away. This is _Dean._

Dean’s hands work quickly, and it takes moments for him to remove Cas’s underwear completely, discarding it somewhere Cas doesn’t see. Instead, he watches, heart thrumming, as Dean coats his hand with what he can now smell is chocolate syrup, mouthwatering in scent – God knows what it must taste like. Heavenly, no doubt.

Cas makes a mental note that this is currently top of the list for things he will pour onto Dean if allowed.

The syrup is dripping down Cas’s neck, tickling him as it runs, and his breaths start to increase in tempo – what is Dean doing? Cas wants to tell him to hurry the fuck up and lick it all off him, though of course he doesn’t. He looks over at Dean, watching in confusion as the older boy coats his hand in the chocolate sauce for an inexplicable reason.

All of a sudden, Dean’s eyes meet his, and he grins, waving his goo-covered fingers at Cas, then depositing the bottle back down. It’s then that, keeping his chocolatey hand carefully away from everything, he leans forwards, dipping his mouth to the river of chocolate that’s pouring over Cas’s collarbone and neck, his tongue sweeping up the stuff, sucking at the skin.

Cas’s hips buck upwards and he moans, his hands gripping Dean’s back, his nails beginning to dig in. Dean’s teeth scrape lightly against his throat, tasting him as much as he can, and all Cas can do is writhe beneath him, wishing he could participate further, but knowing he has to be good.

It’s at that moment that he realises why Dean has a chocolatey hand prepared – he cries out loudly as the sticky, moist grip clasps his erection, no warnings given, and he bucks upwards again, pushing into the warm, gooey cavern of Dean’s fist, ever so slightly moving up and down.

It’s a truly indescribable and somewhat peculiar sensation, but Cas can’t even bring himself to focus on the mess Dean must be making, he’s too fixated on the dual pleasure he’s receiving, both from Dean’s hands and mouth at opposite ends of his body. Dean’s hand picks up its pace, jerking him softly as his tongue laps insistently against the skin below his ear.

Castiel moans, a drawn out sound, and under his hands he feels Dean shiver just a little, his teeth scraping over Cas’s pulse. His hand speeds up as it slicks over Cas’s chocolate-covered shaft, and Cas thrusts into it, helpless, his hands scrabbling for purchase over Dean’s back, his shoulders, every piece of exquisite bare skin he can feel.

“You miss this, Cas?” Dean asks then, his voice low and a little breathless. Cas’s eyes roll backward, his brain overloading at the sound of Dean’s voice, the one he saves for these moments, when Cas is already half-crazy with need. What the hell is he even asking? Cas tries to concentrate because he knows he’s supposed to answer any and all questions Dean poses, especially since he’s trying to be ‘good’. He nods frantically, because of _course_ he fucking well missed this, isn’t that what he’s been complaining about for the past two days? “It really turns me on, thinkin’ o’you all worked up since the last time we…”

Cas, hardly able to focus due to the hand steadily and determinedly pumping his cock, moans at Dean’s words, though he feels a spike of annoyance too.

“I knew it.” Cas gasps, and Dean chuckles, his thumb slipping over the head of Cas’s dick in punishment. Cas groans in response, digging his fingers into Dean’s back.

“You’re not talkin’ back are you now, angel?” Dean asks huskily, and his hand suddenly becomes agonisingly slow in its movements; Dean’s head draws away from the dip between Cas’s shoulder and neck, the older boy’s eyes staring into his, questioning. Cas shakes his head, lower lip pinched between his teeth. It takes a few seconds, but Dean picks up the pace again, and Cas keens, tipping his head back into the mess of pillows. “That’s good. Cause you’ve been doin’ pretty well so far, Cas.” Dean leans closer, his lips brushing against Cas’s ear with every word. “Wouldn’t want you to miss out on somethin’ like this.”

Then, as if to demonstrate what ‘this’ is, Dean switches to the other side of Cas’s neck, presumably the side which is still covered in sauce, and starts to press his tongue against the skin, licking upwards in broad strokes, from collarbone to earlobe.

Cas moans, hips bucking again. God, this feels so fucking good. Dean is so, so annoyingly right – if Cas messes up and doesn’t get the chance to lick stuff off of Dean, he might never forgive himself. Imagine if he could get Dean to feel like this, if he could have _Dean_ be the one moaning and practically shaking with pleasure.

Cas is pretty sure he’s about two seconds away from coming, and he vaguely wonders if that might be a bit gross what with all the chocolate currently smeared on his dick, but whatever- oh, fuck, oh, _oh!-_

Dean whips his hand away just in time, and Castiel curses loudly, barely restraining himself from slapping the guy currently sucking another hickey onto his neck. Cas’s only thought is _whyyyyy,_ and he wants to cry with frustration. But no, he tells himself, trying to calm the sensations sizzling through him, he has to be _patient,_ be _trusting._

Dean starts to press gentle kisses to Cas’s throat, apparently having licked up all he can of the chocolate – only getting minimal amounts smeared on his face somehow because he’s Dean fucking Winchester and that kind of thing doesn’t happen to him – inching his way down bit by bit, until he’s at Cas’s collarbone again, the place where he started.

To Castiel’s surprise, he doesn’t stop there, he keeps going, dragging his lips teasingly over Cas’s chest, tongue circling each nipple while Cas wriggles and moans, both of Dean’s hands coming up to grasp either side of his waist. Dean kisses over his abdomen, sucking a mark here and there, but never spending too long in one place, never long enough for Castiel to get any kind of satisfaction. Cas’s hands curl themselves into the pillowcases all around him, twisting them up into tight balls, trying to relieve some of the coiled tension within him.

He gasps loudly when Dean’s mouth becomes level with his hips, trying with all his might not to arch into the feather soft touch of his lips. He could kill Dean for being such a tease, for stringing him out further, despite the fact he’s already so far gone he’s starting to feel literally insane.

“D-Dean…” Cas blinks, a little shocked that he let that escape from his mouth. Dean seems to like it though, and makes a throaty ‘mmm’ against the skin beneath his hipbone just for good measure.

Dean’s hands are still clutching his waist, and they squeeze lightly now, Dean’s teeth scraping gently at parts of the skin where Castiel is feeling most sensitive. God fucking damn it, will Dean just put his beautiful mouth on my cock already, Castiel can’t stop his mind saying, and his hips move slightly upwards of their own volition, a silent plea. Dean’s hands are quick to move at that, pinning his hips down so fast Castiel didn’t even see them.

“You’re bein’ so, so good, angel. Don’t spoil it now.” The breath of Dean’s words fans out over Castiel’s dick, making it twitch noticeably. “God,” Dean breathes, one of his hands moving from Cas’s hip and grasping hold of Cas’s erection without warning, “you’ve got such a pretty cock, Cas. And it tastes so fuckin’ good.” Dean’s eyes flick to Cas’s over the length of his body; they’re gleaming. “Then again,” Cas’s teeth are gritted, his fingers curled so far into the pillow he’s sure he’ll feel feathers soon, “everythin’ tastes better with chocolate, right?”

Castiel’s brain can’t process the words quickly enough, and so it’s a complete shock to his system when Dean moves swiftly, enveloping his soft, warm mouth around Cas’s shaft, sinking down low. Cas makes a noise like he’s been winded, the feeling of it knocking into him with a force that takes his breath away. He strains to see every moment of Dean as he sucks eagerly on Cas’s erection, starting with a long, slow pull, his tongue flattened against the skin, gathering up all the sauce.

He pulls off with an obscene sounding pop, darting back in to flick his tongue deftly over the head, the way he would an ice cream maybe, carefully removing all traces of the dark, gooey sauce, licking it up with an eager determination. He moves his mouth over the head once it’s fairly clean, and Cas whines, feeling Dean’s tongue lapping at his frenulum, feeling the pleasure building within him, knowing just a few more strokes of Dean’s tongue will have him coming, hard.

“Dean,” Cas tries to say, tries to warn him, “Dean I’m gonna-”

“I was so right, Cas.” Dean interrupts, his voice soft and slightly muffled as he continues licking, finding chocolate in every crevice he can and scooping it into his mouth. “I can taste you, taste you on my tongue.” Cas groans, flopping backwards again, not even sure when he sat up. “Mixed with chocolate, it’s so fuckin’ delicious, Cas.” Dean licks him again, a broader stroke this time, and then he looks up at Cas’s face, smirking slightly. “You gonna come for me, Cas? You gonna let me taste all of you? I want you to come so hard, want you to spill it all down my throat. Can you do that?”

Cas moans loudly, “Fuck yes, I can. I will, please Dean…”

Dean’s mouth envelops him again; Cas can feel the tip of his cock hit the back of Dean’s throat, and fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing he can even imagine right now. Dean starts to move then, his head bobbing, cheeks hollowed, making his mouth tight around Cas’s dick, impossible to resist even if he tried…

“Ohhhh, _fuck…_ fuck, Dean- Oh _God_ ….” Castiel moans, and he feels his hand ripping open a pillowcase, but he doesn’t care. His orgasm blinds him, sending him into another world, and all he can focus on is Dean’s throat constricting and opening as Cas floods it, not pulling off for a moment, holding Cas’s hips as he writhes in the midst of his high, not letting him pull away. Castiel sags finally, boneless and indescribably happy. He will never, never admit that even that one orgasm was worth the wait, but it was. “Dean…”

Castiel would bet good money that ‘Dean’ is the only word in his available vocabulary right now. At least for a good few minutes. Dean seems to get the message though, and crawls over him, grinning away, clearly very pleased with himself. Castiel reaches for him, grabbing at his shoulders and pulling him as hard as he can, though of course if Dean wanted to resist he could have.

Dean laughs anyway, and Castiel wrestles with him until he’s allowed a kiss. One that becomes long, slow and sensuous, a clear thank you on Castiel’s part. He decides to step up his gratitude by reaching for Dean’s fly, because the fucker still hasn’t taken his pants off – simply not on.

“Hey, woah now.” Dean says, breaking the kiss and leaning away. “I do believe you promised to do something very particular to me.”

Cas gazes up at him blearily, not comprehending. Dean raises his eyebrows, glancing very pointedly at the picnic still spread out to the side of them. Castiel had forgotten it was there if he’s honest. He pretty much forgot everything except Dean’s name the moment he orgasmed. Can you blame him? It’s been a trying couple of days. Not to mention the break-up period. Castiel shudders at the thought.

Then his mind reorientates itself, and he realises with belated elation that Dean is essentially saying: ‘You promised to lick stuff off of my naked body. Get to it.’

Castiel jumps into action, leaping into Dean’s lap and pushing him down into an array of pillows that are luckily piled behind him. Dean laughs at the eagerness in Cas’s movements, but happily settles back into the softness, casually placing both hands behind his head.

Castiel looks at him, satisfied, heart thrumming with anticipation. God, he is going to lick _so much stuff_ of this glorious creature – he can’t _wait._

He turns, getting off of Dean’s lap to walk on his knees (probably very unattractively) over to the picnic blanket to survey the different substances available to him. Before he gets there however, he turns back to a chuckling Dean, and stares pointedly at his jeans.

“You will absolutely not be requiring those.” Castiel says, inclining his head to Dean’s denim in case there was any confusion. “Remove them please. And any underwear you might be wearing.”

Cas turns away, getting back to the selection process, and hears Dean speak from behind him. “My, my, Cas. I didn’t realise you were so sexy when you get the chance to be bossy for once.” Castiel tries to shrug the comment off with nonchalance, but Dean just called him sexy for crying out loud. He feels the blush bloom in his cheeks, as ever, and he doesn’t turn around for fear Dean will mock him. Suddenly however, Dean’s voice is much closer, much lower, and right by his ear. Castiel jumps at the unexpected nature of it. “That’s a lie, I totally knew. You make a seriously hot dom, angel.”

Cas blushes harder, thinking of the time he ‘tutored’ Dean, when they’d switched roles briefly. Is that what Dean is referring to? Because Castiel remembers it very differently – he wasn’t ‘hot’ in that role, he was a mess, unable to keep it up for practically five minutes. Dean presses a kiss to his neck, distracting him, and Cas’s eyes flutter.

He sees Dean dangling something before his eyes, and makes himself focus, still not turning around. He realises belatedly that Dean is dangling his underwear in front of him, and Castiel balks at it, wondering how the Hell he got it off so quickly.

“Hurry it up, gorgeous.” Dean says huskily, and then Cas feels him move away, presumably back to the place Cas put him in. He gulps, now faced with having to choose a substance whilst knowing Dean is completely naked behind him. “C’mon, don’t make me start without you…”

That kicks Cas’s brain into gear, and he forces his mind to work properly, scanning the various bowls and bottles for inspiration. His attention keeps being dragged back to the champagne in the centre of the blanket; it looks so inviting, so crisp and cold from the ice bucket it sits in. How nice would a taste of champagne be right now? Castiel’s lip tingles at the thought. It may even stem some of his godforsaken nerves.

He reaches for it, not letting himself dither a moment longer, and turns to Dean with his choice, acutely aware he is still naked, but quickly being distracted by _Dean’s_ nakedness.

If Castiel counted up the times he’d actually seen Dean Winchester naked, he’s pretty sure he’d only need one hand. The fact is, oftentimes in the situations where they’ve had sex previously, Dean’s nakedness hasn’t always been possible, or has even had to be specifically requested. Castiel is pretty sure Dean isn’t ashamed of his body, or even the slightest bit self-conscious – especially if the way he is currently lounged is anything to go by. He just assumes that for Dean, during his and Cas’s escapades, his own nakedness is something of a sidenote – not necessary for a great time and therefore often overlooked.

This, Castiel feels, is one of Dean’s few shortcomings. Dean’s naked body is honestly the most magnificent things Castiel can remember seeing, ever. If Castiel could change one thing about their sex life, it would be that Dean is always naked. In fact, make that everyday life too. Things would pretty much always be improved if Dean was there, as naked as he is now, smirking in that way of his.

Castiel licks his lips at the sight of him; a delicious buffet of skin, sinew and muscle, just begging to be licked. And that’s exactly what he’s here for. Castiel feels himself pop the champagne, but isn’t totally aware of himself doing it, nor is he aware of his movements as he edges towards Dean, presses their bodies together, and tilts Dean’s head back, gripping him by his hair.

It’s as though his body has been taken over by an entirely new, confident and sexual being as he pulls Dean’s lower lip down, then pushes his thumb into Dean’s mouth. Dean’s eyes are wide and clearly very aroused, his pupils dilated, his breaths increasing in frequency. Castiel doesn’t smile, doesn’t do anything but watch, eyes smouldering, as his own hand tips the champagne gently into Dean’s open mouth.

He doesn’t want to choke Dean, doesn’t want to ruin a perfect moment, so he stops after just a couple of seconds, letting Dean swallow the no doubt electric sparkle of the alcohol. He moves himself into position, making sure Dean is as flat out beneath him as possible before straddling his waist, Dean’s hardness settling tauntingly against his thigh. Dean seems to be at a loss for words for once, so Castiel takes advantage of his state to begin his process, moving the champagne bottle up to Dean’s clavicle and filling up the dip that sits there, creating a pool of bubbling, delicious perfection.

He doesn’t stop, can’t even, and begins dribbling the frothy champagne over Dean’s chest, watching in rapture as it spills out over all sides of him, coating his golden skin, making it glint and sparkle in the candlelight. Dean gasps and writhes, probably partly due to the cold, but Cas can see rapture in Dean’s expression too – watches in fascination as Dean’s eyelids flutter, as his lips press together, as his hands reach for Cas’s legs, for the pillows, for his own hair.

Once Cas has poured the champagne all the way down to Dean’s hips, he decides that’s enough for now, and sets to work eagerly, his mouth deciding where to start of its own accord – Dean’s right hipbone. He’s careful to skirt around Dean’s flushed erection, not wanting to give him that just yet. He wants Dean to be desperate first, wants him to be ready to give Cas anything.

Not that Cas would take it – he knows who’s in charge here, he has no desire to be the ‘dom’ as Dean put it, but just for now… it’s going to be nice to take Dean apart.   

Cas spends a while sucking a mark into Dean’s hipbone, wanting it to bruise, to be purplish in colour so that Dean sees it often, can’t possibly miss it. The champagne against Dean’s skin is indescribable – the sharpness of it against Dean’s familiar, rich, earthy scent, it’s making Cas’s head swim. He works his way upwards, licking long trails everywhere he can reach, not stopping until the champagne is replaced with the sheen of his own saliva.

He seals his mouth around each of Dean’s nipples in turn, feeling himself harden fully again when Dean moans, long and loud, his fingers threading into Cas’s hair. God, Dean is beautiful. Castiel imagines that if he were blind, learning Dean’s body under his tongue like braille would take years; each time he could discover more secrets, more breathtaking beauty.

It would also be awesome as hell.

He sucks at Dean’s tattoo, imagining that beneath the taste of the champagne and the taste of Dean’s skin, Castiel can feel the flavours of the ink on his tongue, providing more for his palette to appreciate, though of course this is impossible.

Finally he gets to Dean’s clavicle, and laps up the champagne pooled there like a hungry cat with cream, not stopping once it’s all gone, instead licking up Dean’s neck, sucking fiercely at his throat. Dean hisses and wriggles beneath him, but his hands tighten in Cas’s hair, and Cas just knows somehow that Dean is loving this, that he wants Cas to mark him in a way he would probably never admit aloud.

Finally, Cas leans away, pretty confident there are no traces of champagne left on Dean’s skin – though little could be said of the pillows beneath him. Dean stares into Cas’s eyes for a moment, looking a little awestruck, and then Cas is being pulled roughly forwards, their lips smashing together, Dean’s tongue probing and insistent against his mouth. Cas is all too happy to oblige, his heart soaring when he realises that this kiss is a culmination of Dean’s appreciation for what Cas just did, it shows that Dean liked it.

“Well I regret not lettin’ you do that earlier.” Dean says, though some of the words are lost in Cas’s mouth. He gets the gist though. “Need more, Cas. Fuck… you hard again, baby?”

Castiel whimpers a little, feeling slightly dazed by the ferocious kissing. He nods anyway. “Yeah.”

“Hard for me again, huh?” Dean asks, his hand unwinding from Cas’s hair, sneaking slowly down to brush against Cas’s erection, making him gasp. “Desperate for it aren’t you, angel?” Dean asks, fingers dancing up and down Cas’s shaft. He captures Cas’s mouth again, plunging his tongue inside, their kissing heated and slow, lips dragging against each other. “Want me to fuck you tonight, angel? Want it nice and hard inside you, huh? Is that what you been missin’?”

Castiel is just making noises against Dean’s mouth now, his eyes screwed shut, kissing frantically. “Yes, yes Dean, I want you to fuck me. I want it so much… I’ll do anything…”

Dean smiles against his lips. “Mmm, that’d be nice, huh? I’d like that, Cas. I’d like that a lot.” Dean pauses, pulling away from the kiss for a moment in order to talk to Cas properly. His lips are shiny, swollen and scarlet; Cas can’t keep his eyes off of them. “Do you have anythin’ else you wanna lick off o’me first, Cas?”

Suddenly Castiel is torn. On the one hand, he badly wants to get things moving, wants to get to that perfect, indescribable moment that he’s been craving forever – the one where Dean is inside him, both of them feeling simultaneous and equally intense pleasure as they fit inside one another… but on the other hand, when is Castiel going to get this chance again?

Who knows when Dean will decide that Castiel gets to lick things off of him again, or even allows Castiel to see him and touch him while he’s totally naked? Dean is so unpredictable, and yes it’s fantastic in many ways, but at the same time… Castiel really thinks he should take advantage of this frankly miraculous opportunity, because when is something this good going to come around again?

“I want to lick more things off of you.” Castiel states firmly, though his voice is shaky.

Dean grins. “Fine by me.” Dean leans back into his pillows again, getting comfortable. “Don’t take too long though, Cas… Or I might start thinkin’ you don’t want me to fuck you after all.”

Castiel scowls at him, earning himself another grin, and a wink this time. He turns quickly however, Dean’s words brewing a fear inside him. Damn it, he doesn’t want this to be a hurried process, he wants to take his time. Oh, well. Licking things off of Dean in a hurry will always beat not licking things off Dean at all.

Castiel doesn’t spend so much time on the selection process this time. His eyes are drawn to the bottle almost instantly, and he swipes it up, spinning around to his partner in record time. He holds the bottle aloft, and Dean squints at it, smiling.

“Ohh, I see what you’re doin’ there.” Dean says, grinning. “So is this like our ‘thing’ now?”

Castiel inches towards Dean, spreading his legs with as much nonchalance as he can muster, not ignoring the hitch of breath Dean elicits when he does so. Cas shuffles between Dean’s legs on his knees, and brings the bottle close for inspection.

_Bee-zy Squeezy Honey! Just squeeze and enjoy!_

Castiel smirks to himself, oh he plans to. “You mean is honey a thing with us?”

“Yeah.”

Castiel considers this, thinking of the several times the honey lubricant has come into play. “It can be. I do enjoy bees.”

Castiel’s brain is clearly going bezerk. He _enjoys bees?!_ What is he saying? Just get back to the situation at hand, god damn it, he tells himself harshly, ignoring the furious blush on his cheek along with Dean’s smirk.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Dean says, and Castiel decides he needs shutting up, _now._

Quick and business-like, Castiel pops open the bottle, fidgeting about until he’s comfy, and then begins to squeeze the honey onto Dean’s skin. He begins with Dean’s hipbones this time, pouring a thin trail of golden liquid onto each one, and then, because he just can’t fucking resist, dribbling a wavy pattern over the length of Dean’s long, hardened cock.

Dean makes an array of funny little breathy noises as Cas does this, squirming and chewing his lip. Cas tries hard to ignore him, to focus on the task ahead or he’ll simply never get through this. Immediately he gets to work, lowering his head to Dean’s right hip, licking the stripe of honey smeared there up in one swipe, eyes closing as the taste explodes on his tongue.

“Mmm,” Cas says in appreciation, and he hears Dean curse quietly in response.

Castiel moves quickly to the other hip, not wasting time because although teasing Dean is fun in many ways, he really wants to get to the main event. He wants Dean’s cock – he can’t possibly lie to himself. It’s so close to him, tantalising and so aroused, dripping in _honey_ for God’s sake. He needs it inside him, in his mouth, in… other places. He just _needs_ it.

Once Dean’s hips are honey-free, Castiel rejoices, and glances up at Dean, who is breathing very fast. He’s clearly more worked up than he was letting on previously, Cas thinks, mildly amused, turning turns his attention to Dean’s glistening shaft.

“Oh,” Castiel says, reverent, biting his lip, “ugh, Dean. You’re so incredibly gorgeous. Every damn inch of you…”

Dean lets out a slightly forced chuckle, and Castiel decides to just go straight in. He wants to watch Dean squirm, wants to feel him twitch and writhe, wants to hear him shout the name ‘Cas’ over and over. So he pushes his tongue against the meat of Dean’s cock, and starts licking, savouring every mouthful of sweet, glorious honey, edged with that incomparable tang.

“Mmm,” Cas can’t stop himself saying, pressing his lips against the tip, his eyes slipping closed.

Dean curses again, a little louder this time, and Castiel is suddenly aware of the glorious sensation of Dean’s hands reaching forwards to wind into his hair. He’s not sure he’s licked up all remnants of the honey yet, but he feels like he can’t wait any longer. He stretches his mouth over Dean’s cock, sinking down as far as he can, skin rippling in delight because how long has he been _craving_ this? It feels like decades.

“Holy fuck-sucking- Cas!” Dean inexplicably shouts, and Castiel is so caught off guard that he actually pauses for a moment to make eye contact with Dean, raising his eyebrows. He doesn’t remove Dean’s dick from his mouth though. That, at this point, seems nonsensical. “Give a guy a little warning!”

Cas rolls his eyes at Dean’s chastisement. No. He certainly won’t give any warnings. Dean is going to be happily surprised countless times before Castiel is through with him. Putting this to the back of his mind for now, Castiel decides that the best option is to begin sucking, hard.

“Ffff- _uck._ ” Dean exclaims, his fingers tightening in Cas’s hair.

Castiel smiles around him, a fiery feeling coursing through him with the knowledge that Dean is enjoying this to the point where he can’t stay quiet. Or stay still, apparently – Cas can feel Dean’s hips twitching, as if eager to move, and he actually moans a little at the thought. Castiel starts bobbing his head, the saliva that’s pooled in his mouth making an excellent lubricant along with the honey and Dean’s own flavours. Castiel pulls off for a moment, slurping slightly due to necessity, and Dean watches him, wide eyed and groaning.

He dives back in immediately, tasting less and less honey each time he bobs his head, Dean’s cock sliding further into his mouth, sometimes nearly gagging him, but never quite. Why isn’t Dean moving? Does he need permission?

Castiel pulls off again, staring up at Dean and licking his lips. “Don’t you want to fuck my mouth again, Dean?”

A look of desperation flits over the older boy’s face. “Yes. Yes, I do Cas, but hold up-” Cas is smiling and ready to get back to work, but Dean leans forward abruptly, catching hold of his upper arm. “-want somethin’ else more. C’mere.”

Cas wants to protest, especially when Dean starts moving him in a direction that is _away_ from his groin, but he keeps quiet, knowing it’s in his best interest. Dean pulls him upwards, positioning them so that Cas is straddling Dean’s waist.

“Yeah, that’s good baby.” Dean mutters in approval, then pulls Cas forwards for a long, slightly honey flavoured kiss. “Wanna fuck you now, sweetheart.” Dean mumbles as their lips collide. A wave of excited tremors runs through Cas’s torso. “You gonna do as I say?”

“Yes. Yes, anything.” Castiel replies, still not breaking the kiss.

“Good. I want you to go over to the picnic blanket and get somethin’ for me, alright angel?”

Castiel’s heart falls a little when he realises he needs to move away from Dean, even for what’s bound to be a short period of time. But he doesn’t complain, not out loud anyway, he simply gently pulls away from the kiss, leans up, and bravely turns away from Dean’s _wrecked_ expression. A feat he should be given a medal for, Castiel thinks.

He hurries over to the picnic blanket and waits expectantly, impatient for further instruction. Dean is staring at him hungrily, his bright green eyes gleaming golden in the strange half-light of the candles.

“Look for the bowl of little bottles.” Dean’s voice is husky and low, sounding predatory in tone, and it sends shivers down Cas’s spine.

Okay, Cas thinks, little bottles, come on you can do this. Don’t think ahead, don’t think about how fucking incredible things are about to get because then you won’t be able to concentrate and- fuck. He’s not concentrating anyway. Okay, little bottles.

His eyes scan the blanket frantically, and though it takes him a few tries, he eventually locates the bowl Dean is referring to, which are full of tiny bottles that resemble the small hand creams they sometimes give out in club bathrooms, Cas thinks. He knee-walks back to Dean, clutching the bowl tightly, and holds them out proudly.

“Oh, you’re gonna choose, gorgeous.” Dean says, as if Cas should have known. “I got ‘em all food flavours ‘cause of our picnic theme.”

Dean smirks at him, his face devastating and so, so unfairly, incredibly attractive. How is he in this position?, Cas wonders for the billionth time since he met Dean. The guy is literally spread out before him, a look on his face that says he’s going to have Cas coming so hard he won’t recognise his own name, and Cas is just… But Castiel pushes the thought aside firmly. There’s no point in this, he thinks. This is what got him into trouble the first time, by worshipping Dean and devaluing himself as a person. He’s got to try and be more self-confident. Dean loves him. He’s said so, multiple times. Castiel deserves him, he _does._ He’s probably going to need to say that to himself a few thousand more times before he actually believes it but still. It’s a start.

“Darlin’,” Dean prompts, eyes darkening just slightly in the wake of Castiel’s unresponsiveness to his command, “I said pick your favourite.”

Castiel nods, not wanting to be in trouble right now, God that would be terrible. Things are about to get spectacular. He stares down at the bowl in his hands, realising belatedly that the bottles are all different flavours of lube. He raises his eyebrows, and sifts through them with one finger.

 _Lemon & Lime._ Ew, no, Cas thinks. He wrinkles his nose at it and Dean laughs.

“Gimme the ones you don’t like so I’ll know not to get them.” Dean demands, holding out his hand. Cas places the lemon and lime tube into his hand carefully, not wanting to touch Dean’s skin because he’s afraid he will misbehave if he does. “Or y’know… use them as punishment.”

Castiel’s stomach flutters, and he looks up just in time to see Dean wink at him. Cas blushes and turns his attention back to the bowl.

 _Vanilla Cheesecake._ Castiel ponders this one. That could be… nice? Maybe a little boring… but then again, he’s not really doing this for the flavour of the lube. Will he even get to taste it?

Cas decides to keep going.

 _Warm Caramel Apple._ Oh. Okay, Cas can see that would be nice. He picks it up to squint at the label in the dark – this bottle looks slightly different from the others, probably a different make.

Dean notices straight away. “Oh yeah, that one’s uh… warming.”

Castiel looks at him, confused. “Warming?”

Dean blinks for a second. Then a grin erupts on his face. “Oh yeah, that’s it, that’s the one.” Dean chuckles for a moment. He winks. “Bring it here, hot stuff.”

Though slightly trepidatious about Dean’s reaction, Castiel does as he’s asked, placing the bowl down and straddling Dean again in the same position as before, finding Dean’s hand and fitting the small bottle into it. Dean smiles at him, and before Cas knows it, there’s a hand at the back of his neck and he’s being pulled down into a kiss again. He wishes he could get back to having his mouth on Dean, but he understands why Dean wants to move things along.

He’s getting pretty desperate for release again by now, his cock brushing against Dean’s stomach as their lips slide together, making Cas whimper and push his hips forwards, helpless. Dean’s hands drop to his waist, predictably, stilling his frustrated movements with irritating ease. Their tongues push insistently against each other, Dean getting more ferocious as the kiss deepens, his teeth capturing Cas’s bottom lip and tugging, making Cas hunt for more.

Cas feels Dean’s fingers circling little patterns on his hips, making him twitch due to the sensitivity. He can feel the bottle still clutched in Dean’s palm, just like he feels it when Dean removes his hands, the clear sound of a bottle cap popping open to Cas’s right. He shudders, unable to control his excitement, showing his enthusiasm in the ferocity of his kissing, taking Dean by surprise. He doesn’t see it with his eyes as Dean pours lubricant onto his hands, but he can hear the noises, smell the delicious caramel.

For some reason Dean seems to be in something of a hurry, and so it’s mere moments after Cas is sure Dean has the goo on his fingers that Dean is grasping hold of his cock, eliciting a small cry of surprise out of Cas, not only because of the pleasure but also because it’s cold. Dean hadn’t warmed it up in his hands apparently and-

Castiel breaks the kiss, unsure of what’s happening. Everything is so _warm._ His toes curl, neck arching backward, and he moans loudly, the sensation enveloping him. The lubricant is warming itself against Cas’s flesh, and Dean’s hand slowly strokes as it happens, watching Cas’s face with interest. It’s a similar feeling to the tingling of the honey lubricant, Cas thinks wildly, but different and so _good._

Thinking of honey has him craving it suddenly, and he reaches out blindly to find the bottle of the squeezy stuff he used before. He grabs hold of it, immediately pouring some onto Dean’s neck, his collarbone, and sets to work, throwing the bottle aside. Dean seems a bit dumbstruck by the sudden change of pace and works to keep up, moaning as Cas’s tongue begins its ascent over his skin. His hand releases Cas’s cock, reaching for more lubricant, but Cas is entirely focused on what he’s doing. Dean’s skin is a kingdom of honey drizzled wonder, and he needs to taste it all.

Cas only pauses when he feels Dean’s wet fingers between his cheeks, slipping down to his entrance, just circling lightly, waiting to get inside. Castiel shudders, leaning up to give Dean a passionate honey-glazed kiss of approval before ducking back down to his neck, sucking at the skin there while Dean moans his name.

When Dean’s first finger pushes inside him it’s exquisite, akin to nothing else, and Cas cries out, loud enough that he would probably be embarrassed under normal circumstances. He shudders again, violently this time, pushing himself onto Dean’s finger, urging him onwards.

“Oh, God Dean, don’t stop, don’t stop…” Castiel babbles, and Dean just stares at him, clearly fighting some primal urge that Cas doesn’t understand. “Oh, Dean…”

Castiel can’t stop the shudders suddenly, they seem uncontrollable – it’s overwhelming, the feeling of Dean inside him after all the pining, all the desperate want… He’s going to lose control.

Castiel orders himself to get it together. He is _not_ going to spoil things by coming too early. He won’t let himself. He averts his eyes from Dean’s, because that is helping nothing, and instead re-focuses on getting all of the honey off of Dean’s upper body. He notices a drop that’s trickled down behind Dean’s ear, and catches it on his tongue, just as Dean adds a second finger.

 _“Fuck._ Oh, fuck.” Cas exclaims into Dean’s neck. The lube is warming itself inside of him, his muscles reacting to it by twitching uncontrollably, practically spasming around Dean’s fingers.

“God damn it, Cas.” Dean hisses, and his teeth are clenched, Cas can hear it. “What are you doin’ to me?” Cas bites down on Dean’s neck, sucking a mark there because it’s the only thing he can think of to distract himself. “Ah! Oh, baby. Can’t wait to be inside you for real, angel. You’re gonna feel so fuckin’ good.”

Castiel makes a broken, pleading sound against Dean’s neck, nibbling and sucking, praying that Dean hurry this along or he’s going to come and it will all be over.

Dean adds the final finger then, and Castiel shakes until Dean has to still him with one arm. Maybe he hasn’t had enough to eat today? God, what is happening to him? He hasn’t felt anything like this before. He’s practically delirious.

“Please,” Castiel whimpers, moving his face towards Dean’s with all the strength he can muster, “please, Dean you've got to fuck me now, want you so bad…”

Dean presses his lips together wordlessly, his fingers scissoring as they protrude in and out of Cas, making him writhe and shudder further.

“Yeah,” Dean whispers unexpectedly, “yeah, okay.” Dean pulls his fingers out without warning, and Cas gives a startled cry. “Come on, baby.”

Cas feels Dean’s hands at his shoulders, gripping hard, pulling him upright again. Then he feels Dean coaxing him, his words soft and gentle, urging him to get up onto his knees, to move backward, and then Cas understands why.

Dean’s cock is as enlarged as Cas has ever seen it, leaking fluid in a way Cas has never witnessed, pointing straight upwards. Dean grabs hold of it, holding it steady, giving it a stroke – maybe because he can’t help himself. His other hand still manoeuvres Cas, pushing him backwards, lining him up, though this time Cas helps too.

He’s about to feel oblivion, Cas thinks, biting his lip with the anticipation as he lowers himself down, relishing the moment he first feels the touch of Dean against his entrance, and continuing on, sinking over him. He swallows Dean’s cock inch by inch, relishing the slow, steady burn of it, starting to feel as though he might split apart, until at last he’s fully sheathed.

Castiel doesn’t even realise he’s gripping his own erection until he looks down and sees. Dean’s face is tortured, probably because of how long it took Cas to get to this point, but he doesn’t plan on dicking around any longer. Cas shifts his hips experimentally, because on top of everything else, this is an entirely new position for him. Dean shouts as though he’s been punched the moment Cas moves, so that’s a good sign. He clenches his muscles, and Dean groans desperately, a delicious sound that Cas has never heard before, one that looks born of pure, agonising patience. Dean has gripped the pillows either side of him, and Cas’s heart flutters; he can take the reins here.

Cas lifts himself up slightly, listening for every tiny gasp or whimper his partner utters, and sinks down again, finding that this is a very effective process, particularly in getting Dean to beg for more.

“More, baby?” Cas asks, surprised at his own use of the endearment.

Dean nods fervently, bucking his hips a little to provide encouragement.

Castiel smiles, repeating the lift and sit down technique again, watching avidly as Dean writhes beneath him. Castiel starts to speed up, finding that the faster he goes, the more Dean’s eyes widen, or screw shut, depending on the moment Cas looks at him. The feeling is as indescribable as ever, Dean inside him, filling him wholly, the heat of the friction (along with the lubricant) practically scorching, but so fucking good too.

Cas feels himself getting close – he jerks himself frantically to the general rhythm he’s set up, one hand braced on Dean’s chest, which he’s fully planning to come all over in about a minute’s time. He decides to change up his technique, rolling his hips a little as he sinks down, which gets a really damned good reaction out of Dean, he must say.

“ _Fuck,_ Cas you motherfuckin’ angel- fuck!” Dean yells, and starts bucking his hips in time with Cas’s moves. “No, no wait, get over here.”

Cas, eyes narrowing in confusion, suddenly, somehow finds himself tackled in moments, landing sprawled on some pillows on his back, Dean’s arm around his waist. Dean is completely on top of him, chest to chest, their lips millimetres apart and… most impressively, Dean still firmly inside of him.

He’s not entirely sure how that just happened, but there’s no time for speculation, because Dean starts moving almost immediately. Cas shouts, broken and wild as Dean thrusts in the first time, hitting his prostate in one try, the spasms that had faded into memory in his mind hitting him once again with a force that knocks him over.

Dean isn’t gentle. He’s not careful and delicate with Cas on this first time of theirs after the break up. He’s anything but, spreading Cas’s legs wide, grabbing hold of both of his wrists and pinning them up above his head against the cushions. He thrusts in deeply, groaning and telling Cas: “there’s nothin’ like this”.

He moans Cas’s name as he speeds up, his hips snapping back and forth so fast it seems insane, so that Cas’s eyes roll back in his head, so that he sees stars as Dean pushes over and over again against that place inside him that has him leaking so much that they’ve both become a sticky hot mess.

“Wanna fuck you hard, Cas baby,” Dean whispers into Cas’s ear, and Cas just moans wantonly, unable to verbalise a response of any kind at this point, “wanna fuck into you so damn hard, make you scream. You gonna let me do that, huh? I know you can take it, Cas, you’re so fuckin’ perfect.”

Cas nods, agreeing to anything, everything, and damn _yes_ he wants harder, wants faster, deeper anything that he can have. He just wants Dean to fuck into him for as long as possible, for it to be as good as it can be. He nods again, totally sure, and Dean kisses him, dirty and open, their mouths hot with the exertion.

Dean keeps his word. His hips do an experimental thrust, Dean pulling out almost all the way, then ploughing into Cas roughly, with such force that it sends Cas backwards a little way. He checks Cas’s face for any discomfort, or changes of heart, but all he sees is raw lust. He gulps, doing it a second time, and this time Cas moans loudly, angling his hips to make it easier for Dean.

Desire blooms darkly again in Dean’s eyes and he picks up the pace, thrusting into Cas with renewed force, one arm still wrapped around him, keeping him steady as he rams forwards over and over, Cas’s mouth open and slack with pleasure, his eyes fluttering wildly.

“Oh, fuck Cas… you’re so fuckin’ hot,” Dean is babbling, Cas thinks in wonder, he must be getting close, and that makes two of them, “you saved me, Cas, you fuckin’ perfect angel- Oh, _Christ,_ Cas!”

Cas feels it as Dean comes and he digs his hands into Dean’s back, raking his nails down the skin, trembling at the sensation of Dean’s come spurting into him, bouncing over his prostate, filling him- god, that’s so fucking hot.

Castiel watches Dean’s face, watches how much he is enjoying every second of this, of just fucking into Cas because he’s _Dean’s,_ of claiming what’s his, wanting to go so damn hard because then it’ll seem even more real and he can love every second- “ _O- Oh, Fuck, Dean_ – mmm, oh ff- _uck!_ ”

Castiel comes enough times that he knows it’s unusual, but he can’t stop, Dean is still inside him, on top of him, he can feel the mess he’s creating between their sticky, sweaty bodies but he doesn’t care, it just feels even _hotter._ His orgasms don’t subside for at least a minute, and he’s pretty sure he only stops physically coming because he has nothing left.

He sags, boneless, into the pillows, eyes heavy, trying hard to adjust to shadowy objects looming in the darkness all around him. “That was…”

Dean, Castiel realises, is beside him, laid out on his back as well. “Worth the wait?”

Castiel weakly swats at him, pretending that it wasn’t. Which, of course, is a fucking lie.

* * *

 

Cas awakens in a sleepy haze, still naked, and in a room different to the one he fell asleep in. He moves a little, finding himself somewhat restricted, and after a brief moment of freaking out, realises that Dean is somewhat inelegantly draped over him. Cas wriggles free as best he can, and lifts his head, peering around himself. Yep, as he first thought, this is indeed Dean’s room.

How the Hell did he get up here? He doesn’t remember moving of his own accord. Castiel wriggles a little more, attempting to scan the floor for clothes or clues of any kind, but at that moment, Dean begins to stir.

Castiel turns towards him, sinking back down into his tight embrace, smiling at the knitted brow Dean is showing off as he blinks his eyes open sleepily. Dean seems to need a couple of moments to take in the sight of Cas before him, and then a dazed, happy smile burst forth on his face. Cas’s heart flutters at the sight of it.

“Mornin’ angel.”

“Good morning.”

Dean shifts his position, resting his weight on one strong arm in order to lean over and kiss Cas, softly and sweetly, neither of them in any hurry to break away. Dean does, eventually, but Cas just pulls him back in, this time sliding his fingers into Dean’s hair, dragging him closer. He feels like Heaven, the weight of his chest against Castiel’s, seeping warmth into Cas’s skin. Cas prays that he can have many more mornings just like this one.

Things start to change pace when Dean shifts again, and Castiel remembers that, oh yeah, they’re both naked. Not only that, but Dean seems to be pretty interested in the idea of the morning make out session they’re currently engaging in, if his morning wood brushing against Cas’s hip is anything to go by. Cas moans a little at the feel of it, his hands sliding down Dean’s neck, over his shoulder blades.

Upon noticing this positive reaction, Dean shifts again, angling his hips so that they align with Cas’s, his erection stroking over Cas’s groin, coaxing Cas’s hardness into existence pretty fast. Cas moans again, biting Dean’s lip in a clear signal to keep going, which Dean does, of course. The older boy pushes his hips forwards, sending their dicks sliding against one another and against their stomachs. Sparks fizz from the tip of Cas’s cock to the edges of his fingernails and he whimpers slightly into Dean’s mouth, their kiss unbroken.

Dean finds Cas’s wrists then – something he seems fond of, Cas notices – and pins them up over his head once more. It’s hot, Castiel must admit, and he loves it when Dean does that, but he sometimes wants to touch too. Just this once, surely that’s okay? This is just casual morning sex, right? Cas can play a little bit against the rules? He decides to chance it, asking outright.

“Dean,” he interrupts himself with a stuttered gasp as Dean thrusts them together again, and a few more times afterward, whispering to Cas how good it feels, “Dean, I-”

“What’s up, angel?” Dean asks, his voice gentler than normal in these situations. It gives Castiel hope.

“Can I…” Castiel pauses, whimpering again as Dean thrusts a little faster. He wonders how best to phrase his question. “Can I get us off?”

Dean makes a fractured little noise in the back of his throat, immediately releasing one of Cas’s hands. “Yeah, baby. Take it away.”

Castiel blinks, slightly taken aback by his free reign, but quickly moves his hand to position, grasping hold of both of them in his fist, teeth clenching because it’s such a wonderful sensation. Slowly he begins to jerk them, his hand quickly becoming moist and slick, providing a glorious thrill that sets Cas’s teeth on edge. Dean starts to thrust again, shallowly this time, just pushing them both into Cas’s tight, moist fist, his moans becoming erratic, his grip on Cas’s other wrist getting firmer.

Cas is lost in feeling, barely aware of his own movements anymore. He knows his hand is doing the work, but all he can sense is Dean, everywhere around him, his scent intoxicating, his warmth radiating, practically a furnace. The familiar electric coil of intense, pure pleasure is swirling through his being again, a feeling he associates so strongly with the boy on top of him right now, pushing them against one another. Cas is on the edge, he can feel it, maybe if he just sped up his hand a little more-

“Oh! Mmm, fuck, oh _Dean._ ” Castiel cries, realising with mild embarrassment just how quickly he spilled his seed over them both, his hand wet with it, still moving over Dean’s cock.

Dean kisses him, passionate and forceful, soaking up every bit of Cas’s post-orgasm high. He continues to thrust into Cas’s moistened fist, and Castiel, his brain on another plane of existence, decides to help him. He moves his come-slicked hand over the length of Dean’s erection, sweeps down to grasp hold of his balls – something that makes Dean’s movements stutter, and which he should definitely keep in mind, Cas notes – and then, almost without thinking, a stray finger passes between Dean’s cheeks, of its own accord finding the puckered flesh that surrounds Dean’s entrance.

“Fuck!” Dean cries, his hips thrusting forwards strongly, and suddenly he is coming, spilling over Cas’s stomach, his dick twitching with the force of it.

Cas blinks at him, a little shocked. Then he smiles. Well, isn’t this a day for discoveries. Dean rolls off of him, lying beside Cas once more on the bed, his breathing heavy.

“Huh.” He says, looking a little dazed. Castiel says nothing, just continues smiling. “Well that was… new.”

“Are you telling me you’ve never done that before?” Castiel asks, incredulous. “You knew so much about it when… when I’d never done it.”

Dean looks a little guilty, but meets his eyes nonetheless. “Uh, no. I hadn’t _personally_ experienced it but… I’d done it to others before so…”

Castiel looks at him, one eyebrow raised. “Uh huh.” Dean looks sheepish. “Well, you seem to enjoy it.”

Dean rolls his eyes and Castiel smirks at him. He is enjoying this, being the tease for once.

“Whatever. Don’t get any crazy ideas.” Dean says, half-jokingly, but he still has his serious tone in play. “I think we’ve established our roles pretty well so far. For instance…”

Dean rolls towards him, grinning, and finds his wrists again. Cas is still smirking up at him, but he doesn’t hold out much hope for staying in the upper hand for long. If Dean wants to shut him up, then he is damn well capable. Dean pins his hands over his head again, bringing their faces close.

“I think you look pretty good like this.” Dean murmurs, and yep, that’s it, Cas’s smile slips away, he’s back into hopelessly-aroused-ville. “Think maybe we should get the handcuffs out again soon, huh? You look real pretty all tied up and hungry for me, Cas.”

“You really have a thing for pinning me down, don’t you?” Cas asks, getting breathless, his heart hammering.

“Can you blame me?” Dean replies, pressing a kiss to Cas’s neck. “How could I resist?” Dean continues mouthing at Cas’s neck, sucking softly on the skin there. Cas isn’t sure if Dean is expecting an answer. “You seemed to like it last night, if I remember correctly.”

Castiel shivers, the memories of Dean thrusting into him, so hard and deep, his hands completely pinned, unable to move an inch as Dean took him so completely. Fuck, yes, he definitely enjoyed that.

Castiel pauses, remembering what he’d wanted to know. “Dean, how did we get up here?”

“Hmm?” Dean asks, distracted by the hickey he is working on.

“To your room,” Cas continues, “we were downstairs. How are we here now?”

Dean leans away, a glint in his eye as he stares down at Cas. “Well you fell asleep pretty soon after… y’know.” Cas blushes, chastising himself. Why did he do that? Is he an idiot? Clearly. “It was kind of really adorable actually. So I carried you up here.”

Castiel nods, then replays the last thing Dean says in his mind, blinking. “Carried me?”

“Yeah, the candles were goin’ out so I didn’t want you to be cold.” Dean shrugs, then smirks again. “Oh, and it might’ve been a little awkward in the mornin’ when your brother came downstairs for coffee and-”

“YE-s, okay,” Cas interrupts before Dean finishes that sentence, “let’s be very grateful that didn’t happen. But seriously, you _carried_ me all the way upstairs while I was…”

“Unconscious?” Dean supplies helpfully.

“Um, yes.”

“Yeah. Why?”

Castiel just shakes his head, marvelling. “I-I guess I’m just a little… dazed by it.”

Dean grins at him. “Yeah? Is it super sexy?”

“Well, I might swoon.” Castiel says, smiling. Dean laughs, kissing Cas happily, something that Castiel will absolutely never get enough of. “So… is everything else still down there?”

“Like all the food and cushions and stuff? Yeah, but don’t worry I’ll have the Pledges deal with it.” Dean says, grinning at his power.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “They’re gonna hate us. We made… a mess.”

Dean makes a ‘pfft’ sound. “Whatever, it’s all part of the experience. And they’ve seen way worse, trust me.”

“Hmm. But um, I was actually meaning… the clothes. Like, our clothes.” Castiel says, snuggling closer into Dean’s nakedness simply because he can. Dean chuckles at him, stroking a hand through his hair.

“Ah, yeah, they’re all downstairs.” Dean says, apologetically.

“So…” Castiel creases his brow. “Wait a minute. You carried me upstairs last night… _naked_?”

Dean laughs, raising his eyebrows and winking. “Sure did.”

Castiel sighs dreamily, picturing it. He feels like a damsel in distress from an old movie, though he hasn’t watched many admittedly. Hey, perhaps he is Princess Leia, and Dean is Luke Skywalker, carrying him to safety.

“That’s a pleasant image.” Cas says, sighing happily again, and Dean laughs, pressing a kiss to his temple. “But it does mean that I am now stuck in your room. I can’t very well go downstairs naked to retrieve my clothes, what if my brother sees?”

Dean pulls him in closer, kissing him softly and slowly, adding the barest hint of tongue just to drive Cas nuts, he’s sure. “Oh no,” Dean murmurs, “what a shame. Maybe you’ll just have to stay locked in here. I can keep you company.”

Cas whimpers, hand clutching for Dean’s jaw, kissing him deeply. Just then, there’s a knock on the door of the room, making them both jump in surprise.

“Uh, who is it?” Dean calls, and Castiel pulls the covers up around him, frowning at the doorway, willing the person away. “I’m extremely busy, whoever you are.”

Castiel blushes and smiles, butterflies bursting to life in his stomach when Dean turns to resume kissing him. Extremely busy, huh? Castiel qualifies as ‘extremely busy’. He smiles wider, kissing back with fervour.

“Uh, apologies Mr Alpha, sir- it’s A-Adam.” The voice on the other side of the door says, and Dean rolls his eyes, breaking from the kiss, looking at Cas apologetically.

“What is it, Adam?” Dean calls, and Castiel squints, trying to place Adam in his memory. One of the Pledges, he thinks.

“I have your um, your clothes. And Mr Novak’s. Washed and dried.”

Dean raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, ok, hold on a sec.”

Castiel tries not to protest _too_ loudly when Dean starts to vacate the bed, but succeeds in getting Dean to place reassuring kisses on his mouth, forehead and hands, promising he’ll be back momentarily. Dean wanders over to his chest of drawers, Cas watching with a delighted interest, surveying every inch of Dean’s gorgeous body as he walks across his floor.

Dean pulls on a pair of boxers, checks himself over quickly, and grabs a pack of wet tissues, pulling one out and swiping it over his abs. He throws it in a wastepaper bin, winking filthily at Cas, and then strides over to the door. He pulls it open slightly.

Murmured words that Castiel can’t hear are exchanged, and then Dean ducks back inside, clutching a bag of clothes. “Success.”

Dean starts to close the door, when Adam's voice pipes up again. Castiel rolls his eyes, flopping back onto the pillow. "Oh, um, Alpha?" 

Dean, sighing, pokes his head around the door again. "Yeah?"

"I think maybe you should um, come downstairs soon."

"Huh? Why?" 

"Just... it would be in your best interest to come downstairs. Believe me." 

Castiel, brow crinkling in confusion upon hearing the hushed words exchanged, sits upright again, watching as Dean closes the door, slowly turning to face Cas. Dean drops the bag of clothes he is holding, a similar look of confusion on his face. 

"So that sounded..." Dean starts to say.

"Ominous." Cas finishes. "We should..."

"Yeah." Dean agrees, picking up the bag again and bringing it over to the bed.

Castiel takes it gratefully, beginning to rifle through it for his clothes. Adam certainly did a thorough job - Cas sniffs his cardigan, impressed. Clean and fresh.

"We can... come back up here later right?" Castiel asks, glancing over at Dean, who is searching through his drawers for a t-shirt.

He shoots Cas a grin, winking. "Oh sweetheart, I'd have it no other way."

Castiel's stomach flips a little and he smiles happily, sighing as he starts the arduous process of dressing.

\---

Cas can immediately tell something is wrong as soon as he and Dean begin to descend the stairs. First of all, there are too many people in the Frat house. And yes, Cas reasons, it is a Fraternity, so it's not exactly unusual for crowds of students to be here, but there's usually some sort of occasion for it, and usually that occasion is organised by the Alpha. And Castiel happens to know that the Alpha of this particular Fraternity has been... somewhat preoccupied. 

Castiel shoots Dean a worried look as they push through groups of sniggering people dotted about the place, and then Cas hears a sound that sends chills down his spine. 

"Hand them to your friends, your loved ones - perhaps your brother down in Idaho would care to see?" It's Gabriel's voice, of course, and Castiel searches frantically for the source, because right now it seems to be  _everywhere._ "Or dear old sis taking that year abroad in Europe? She'd love a digital version - see me for copies. The point is folks, take a flyer, take fifty! Spread these babies around! This is Dean Winchester we're talking about here, just let that sink in- oh, hey bro!"

Castiel, after some pretty rude shoving, has managed to find his slimy older brother, stood boldly on the arm of the couch, a microphone clutched in one hand, a stack of flyers as high as Cas's head by his side. 

"Gabriel! What the Hell is going on?" Castiel hisses.

Dean is suddenly beside him, looking extremely nervous all of a sudden now that he knows it's Gabriel behind whatever this is. "Gabe, what is this?"

"Fellas, fellas." Gabriel says, into the microphone unfortunately, so everyone turns to stare. "This, I'm afraid, is what is known as 'justified revenge'! These nice folks are all well aware by now of what good ol' Dean-o did to my li'l bro here, so they agree he needs to be punished!"

Castiel, breathing heavily through his nose, snatches the microphone out of Gabriel's hand, finding himself suddenly seriously pissed off. "Enough! This is so stupid, I'm the one he hurt, okay?! I get to decide whether he needs punishment or not, and I  _forgave_ him." Castiel turns to Dean, and shoots him a smile. Dean smiles back, eyes filled with gratitude. "So you can all just kindly piss off, all revenge plots have been cancelled for the day."

Castiel shoves the microphone back into Gabriel's chest, hard enough to hurt. He winds his arms around Dean's neck then, kissing him, to hammer the point home for all these gawking spectators, and also because kissing Dean is always something Cas wants to do. 

"That's all very cute and everything, Cassy." Gabriel says into the microphone, and hearing the smirk in his brother's voice is enough to have Cas freezing mid-kiss. Oh, God. What has Gabriel done? "But I'm afraid it's too late for cancellations. The plan is already in motion. Please, feel free to take a gander." 

Castiel slowly unwinds himself from Dean, turning to his brother in horror. He watches, eyes wide, as Gabriel reaches for one of the flyers from the stack behind him, as the room bursts into laughter. Gabriel presents the flyer to Castiel in a flourish, bowing a little. 

The flyer is essentially a photograph of Dean, but one that Castiel has never seen before. In this photograph, Dean does not look like himself. He is kneeled on the ground, a desperate, practically pleading expression on his face, and his hands are clasped together before him. Castiel's mouth falls open at this image alone, wondering when on earth this could have been taken. Who could have seen Dean this vulnerable? Was it  _Gabriel_? How?!

The photo is edited however, and that's where Gabriel has truly outdone himself. 

"Oh, fucking hell." Dean says, covering his face with both hands as he takes it all in. "Gabriel, you asswipe!" 

Around the photo of Dean are various graphic images, all extreme close-ups of pornographic positions, so zoomed in that it's impossible to tell who is performing them. The text on the flyer is bold, Helvetica font if Cas is not mistaken, and bright enough to catch anyone's eye - you know, if the rest of the flyer failed to do that much. 

**_Feeling frustrated? Need a release?_ **

**_It's Time To Dial Dean!_ **

**_He's Just BEGGING To Suck Your Cock!_ **

**_No discriminations: big, small, fat, tall - Dean-o here will take it all!_ **

**_Dial Dean now on 555-3547_ **

**_He can't wait!_ **

Castiel stares at the flyer, mouth agape, for a good minute. He only notices belatedly that Gabriel is handing him other ones, all with different themes, the best possibly being the religion themed flyer, with the wording aimed to make it seem as if Dean were 'praying for it'. 

"Gabriel..." Castiel says, eyes moving to stare at his brother. "This is..."

Castiel's eyes flick down to the paper clutched in his hands again, and he presses his lips together, trying to hold it in. He can't. He just can't do it. He shoots his boyfriend an apologetic glance, and the laughter bubbles over. Castiel couldn't stop if he tried, it's too much, he laughs until his throat is sore and his ribs ache, until tears fall from his eyes. And then Gabriel shows him another, and it starts all over again. 

It's several minutes later that Castiel gathers himself enough to be able to look at Dean without dissolving back into hysteria. His boyfriend, thank heavens is looking shocked at his reaction, but not completely betrayed. 

"Dean... I'm sorry, it's just..." Castiel laughs again, moaning when his ribs throb. "God, you have to admit. Gabriel, when he goes for it, it's... amusing." 

"Yeah, try bein' on the receivin' end." Dean says, bitterly, his face bright red as he turns away from another sniggering group of people bunched around a flyer. 

Castiel is having none of that. "Oh, I have. I've been there, thousands of times, Dean. If you're looking for sympathy on that score, it's not gonna be a whole lot until you've had eighteen years of it."

"Oh, like he pranked you when you were a baby?" 

"Itching powder in his crib." Gabriel butts in, grinning. Dean looks at him like he's insane. "What? We all gotta start somewhere." 

Dean steps forwards, getting into Gabriel's face, trying to be menacing. It doesn't really work when Gabriel holds up the flyer next to his face however, Cas notes with a wry grin. "Gabriel, how many o'these you got here?"

"Ohhh, I dunno. Say a hundred?" Gabriel guesses, looking at the stack next to him. Dean deflates, his eyes closing heavily. "But that's just the ones I brought here, o'course. There's tons more all over campus." 

Dean stares at Gabriel, searching his expression for lies. He turns back to Cas, clearly a broken man. "Yep, that's it, I'm dropping out."

"Aw," Cas says, winding his arms around Dean's waist, "no, you're not. Hey, I still like you. So there's a flyer or two up sayin' you like to suck dick? I bet it just makes even more people want you." Dean gives Cas a look. "I mean, probably not people you'd  _want_ wanting you, but..."

"Shit, I should probably check my phone, huh?" Dean laughs, fishing it out of his pocket. "See if anyone's actually..."

Cas watches as Dean's face drains of colour, and immediately peers over to look at his phone screen. "Holy shit! A hundred and forty two voicemails?!" 

"Alright!" Gabriel declares suddenly into the microphone, making both Cas and Dean jump. "A hundred and forty two voicemails later on Alpha boy's phone, I'd say we have ourselves one Hell of a successful revenge prank! One that Dean-o here can enjoy for months to come! Possibly years!"

"Hey, I can change my number Gabe." Dean interjects.

"I can make more flyers, Dean-o." Gabe fires back, grinning. "So I'd like to thank all of you lovely people for your hard work, getting those flyers out there, give yourselves a round of applause." There's a hesitant few claps, and Gabriel grins as if everything is going perfectly smoothly. "Alright then folks! Let's clear on out, don't wanna be late for the parade!"

People start to file out eagerly into the street, and Cas and Dean exchange a terrified glance. Dean catches hold of Gabriel's arm before he can escape. "Parade? What parade?"

"Oh, you're gonna love it Dean!" Gabriel says animatedly, eyes glittering with excitement. "Big, twenty foot high papier maché float of you on your knees, rollin' on down Fraternity Row. Come outside! You're gonna miss it!"

Gabriel breaks free of Dean's grip, and Dean turns back to Cas, sighing in despair. "Fuckin' Hell. Is this what I signed on for by datin' you?"

Castiel smiles up at Dean, threading his arms around Dean's neck. "My psychotic brother, you mean? I'm afraid so. Is it more than you bargained for yet?"

"Honestly?" Dean asks, smiling back as he wraps his arms around Cas's waist. "Yes. But I'm kinda lovin' that. Like I didn't bargain for more than a few quickies with you, Cas, and that's if I was lucky. To be special enough to you that I have to earn the respect o'your family? I mean, it sucks in a way, but... yeah, I'm really kinda lovin' that."

Cas dips his head, feeling shy all of a sudden. His fingers play idly with the short tendrils of hair on the back of Dean's neck. "If it helps, I'm like eighty percent sure he was lying about the parade float thing." Cas pauses. "Okay, like seventy five percent sure."

Dean laughs softly. "If he's not, it's still so worth it, Cas." 

Castiel meets his eyes again, smiling. "I really like you, y'know." 

Dean laughs, bringing their faces tantalisingly close. "Yeah, I think I sorta got that." Their lips push together as though magnets draw them in, and Castiel is dizzied by the overwhelming feel of soft, tissue-thin, perfectly moulded mouths. He loses himself in the kiss, drunk on it, riding the high, his heart racing so fast it's practically humming. Dean pulls away very slightly. "Backatcha, angel."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: This story now has a sequel in the works! Check out Psi Delta Alpha Boys: Kappa Sigma. Chapters are posted every week! (And it's almost complete).


	17. Bonus Porn!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean is mysterious, frustrating and incomprehensibly sexy all at once, and Castiel remembers (for the thousandth time) why he fell so hard for this boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've had this idea floating around in my head for a while and just decided - yeah, fuck it, the story is finished but let's keep adding! 
> 
> There's not much else to say except thank you all for your lovely reviews and things, I'm so happy you all like it so much! It's fun to write so (this will inevitably come back to bite me but) expect more. You know, if you want to read more of course.
> 
> \---
> 
> Edit: This story now has a sequel! Check out Psi Delta Alpha Boys: Kappa Sigma. 
> 
> Also, if you fancy it, follow me on tumblr! fallforcastiel.tumblr.com

“I got you a present.”

Cas, who is actually quite busy staring into Dean’s shimmering eyes, blinks a couple of times before responding. It just takes him a second to catch his breath sometimes when Dean’s around. Nothing that weird.

Well, perhaps a little. 

"Y-you did?"

Dean smiles at the stammer, sneakily slipping a finger into the waistband of Cas's jeans and pulling him in. Cas blushes a little, very aware of the fact that they're outside the lab right now, in a busy hallway where anyone could see them.

He can't comprehend how much better his Tuesday and Thursday afternoons have become in comparison to before. Now, instead of waiting and moping outside the class until the Frat boys pour out while he pines after them, he gets to have a whole, delicious hour alone with Dean in a private classroom before his own class. 

It just sucks when they have to say goodbye. Like right now. 

"Yeah," Dean affirms, and Cas watches dumbly while Dean digs in his backpack - Cas had thought it was strange that he was carrying one today - and produces a small, bright blue, hastily wrapped package. "Don't you dare open it till you're back home though, Cas. I put a li'l note in there too, so... well. You'll know when you open it."

Castiel cocks his head a little as he takes the package. He's careful with it, twirling it in his fingers, squinting at the shiny paper, trying to see through its barriers. "Thank you."

Dean laughs a little. "Don't thank me yet, Cas. That comes later."

It's very confusing when Dean winks, but Cas tries to go along with it. He places the present in the bag by his feet, smiling at Dean, leaning in to give him a quick kiss of gratitude.

This does not go as planned however, but again, Cas decides to simply roll with it when Dean takes control of the situation, wrapping both arms around Cas's waist and pushing him back against the wall.

Dean pulls his waist forwards, making Castiel arch into him, so he wraps his own arms around Dean's neck, hanging on for dear life. 

Dean is apparently not as concerned about passers-by, as the way he kisses Cas can only be described as filthy, his tongue flicking against Cas's, exploring his mouth, reminding the younger boy of every sordid, heated, dirty thing they've done in the last week, and that's a hell of a lot.

Cas can't help the whine that escapes him, and for Christ's sake doesn't Dean realise by now that it really, really doesn't take a lot for him to get Cas hard? He's got a lesson with Crowley now, he can't have a raging erection, it just wouldn't be decent!

Dean doesn't seem to care all that much however, and Castiel is finding that his own common-sense is beginning to slip away as well. Dean has begun biting at his lower lip now, sucking on it as his hands roam over Cas's back, then shoving him hard into the wall. That's it, Cas thinks, he's done, Dean might as well just sling him over his shoulder and carry him back to his bedroom because there is just no fucking way Cas can even begin to think about Physics now.

Dean growls a little, softer than usual due to their public location Cas notices, but it's still audible to Cas, and his kisses somehow increase in ferocity - if that's even possible. 

"Oh, bloody Hell- for Christ's sake, Castiel," Dean seems extremely reluctant to break away from Cas, but the sound of that grating British voice could kill anyone's mood, and he leans away, sighing, "would you kindly remove Winchester's tongue from your throat and get in here?! You're already five minutes late." 

Cas nods sheepishly, blushing hard due to the compromising position Crowley has found him in, Dean still pressing him against the wall. No doubt his eyes are glazed and his lips are crimson too, just to make everything that little bit worse. 

"Sorry, Professor. Coming." Castiel says quickly, and even those words are hard to conjure up after that make out session. 

"TMI, Castiel." Crowley says vaguely, and ducks back inside. 

Dean laughs, stepping away, looking a little unsteady. "Sorry angel, looks like we got cut short. Never mind, there's always next time."

Castiel eyes him suspiciously, picking up his bag, very aware that he's now trembling. "Why are you so happy? Don't pretend like you weren't every bit as into that as I was."

The responding smirk is something right out of Gabriel's handbook. "I ain't denyin' that."

"So, Crowley gave you blue balls too!" Castiel retorts. "Why aren't you mad, or frustrated at the least?" 

Dean just grins and winks, infuriatingly, Cas might add.

"Text me when you've opened your present, gorgeous." Dean starts to retreat then, walking backwards down the corridor with a wave. "I've got an emergency practice now, but I should be out after you've opened it."

"Annoying asshole." Castiel mutters fondly, waving back and turning towards his class. 

"Love you too!"

* * *

 

The class, as Castiel suspected, is long and tedious. Crowley, to make things worse, seems to have it out for him at the moment, and that's probably in no small part due to the fact that he harbours a strong hatred for his boyfriend. It only pisses Crowley off more when Castiel gets every question the Professor fires at him correct, because finally, now that things have settled down (to some extent) with Dean, Cas can make himself study again. 

Well, he admits it's a lot harder to concentrate on Physics now than the era pre-dating Dean (what were those times even like? Castiel can barely recall), but that's kind of inevitable. Now that Dean is - incomprehensibly - his boyfriend, there is always going to be something better Cas could be doing than studying.

Oh, well, Cas thinks, it's better than it was before, when he couldn't think straight about anything because Dean's crazy sex-rules and mind-games left him in a complete state. Now he's got a security blanket of Dean's love - again, incomprehensible - and Dean's number in his phone with an assurance that its sole purpose is not just booty calls and phone sex. 

Sometimes now - rarely, Cas will admit, after all they're still crazy for each other - they call each other to just talk about stuff. Stupid, aimless, usually gooey stuff that often ends with an embarrassingly similar version of "no you hang up!", "no, you!". Castiel's cheeks warm a little, thinking about it. Like he said, it's pretty rare. 

"The universe is believed to be, as I'm sure many of you are aware, infinite." Crowley drones, and Castiel sighs heavily.

So is the length of this class, he thinks to himself. He stares at the clock on the wall, willing it to go faster. He wants to open his present.

He glances down underneath the lip of the desk, blushing a little because he can't get the image out of his mind of Dean's hand inching towards his lap, around forty minutes ago, back when they were alone in their own classroom. One day, maybe when they're not so ferociously addicted to each other's bodies - Cas cannot even begin to conjure up that post-apocalyptic scenario - Dean and Castiel will be able to sit together, alone in a classroom, with Cas teaching Dean about science, and neither of them having an orgasm. 

But that day is far, far from now. 

Castiel curses his wandering mind and looks again at his bag under the desk. It hides something from Dean. A gift, thoughtfully chosen by his perfect, incredible boyfriend, even wrapped up especially for him. What could it be? 

If Castiel were to be asked, he would have said that Dean wasn't one for buying presents. It's unlikely that Dean will have gotten him chocolates or anything like that. It's too small of a package to be flowers, not that Dean would get those either. So what, then? Castiel thinks hard. He supposes that actually, technically speaking Dean has gotten him presents before. He flushes again when he remembers the carrier bag Becky had thrust at him, the twist in his stomach he's felt when Dean had admitted to giving him those... objects. 

Ah, Castiel thinks, feeling proud of himself. That actually makes a lot of sense. When Dean gives presents, they are typically of a... sexual nature. It certainly explains why he wasn't too put out by Crowley's interruption earlier. Castiel's eyes gaze down at his backpack, his heart beginning to thump nervously. He imagines the thing glowing now, like a beacon, declaring Castiel's promiscuity to his entire Physics class. His cheeks redden, and Castiel sighs, ducking his head.

What on earth is it? Castiel chews his lip, Crowley's words nonsensical to him now. All he can think about is the present, he's starting to feel arousal curl within him just thinking about it. What will Dean want him to do with it? Will Dean use it with him? The questions are endless. Time ticks by infuriatingly slowly, still. 

* * *

 

"Dean, you are on top of you game tonight, man!" Luke yells, jogging over to him, his rouged cheeks split with a large grin. He claps Dean on the back, whooping with the exhilaration. "You just get laid, or what?" 

Dean shoves him in the shoulder, laughing as he tackles the ball off Walker in front of him. "Not yet," Dean calls back, deftly throwing the ball to Alastair, “but I think I got grounds to be excited about later.”

Luke huffs an impressed-sounding laugh. “Man, don’t you guys ever stop for a breather? Wish I was gay, then maybe I’d actually be gettin’ some action.”

Dean sighs, he and Luke jogging towards one another as they get into third position. “First off, I’m not gay.” Dean scolds, and Luke blushes a little. Dean decides to go easy on him – he’s trying after all. That’s better than some of his so-called friends now that he’s leapt out of the closet. “Second, it’s just the luck of the draw my friend, Cas is one of a kind.”

Dean grins at Luke, winking, distracting him before running off to tackle Gordon again for the ball.

“Lucky son of a bitch.” Luke mutters bitterly, jogging to keep up.

* * *

 

When the bell eventually rings, after what seems like hours, Cas all but sprints for the door, guiltily choosing to ignore Crowley’s disapproving look.

He hurtles down the corridor, rucksack bumping insistently against his back, reminding him every three seconds that Dean’s mysterious present is still in there, tantalising and close.

The speed with which he heads across campus could be legendary, and though some people do wave at him (people seem to keep doing that now that he’s affiliated with Dean - apparently association sends him rocketing up the social ladder) he is brief and perfunctory in his replying nods and smiles, wanting to appear as though he is in a hurry, because he is.

Blissfully, Becky does not ambush Castiel the moment he lets himself into the flat, and he runs into his room, practically slamming the door shut. It appears that for once, Heaven is on his side.

His bag slides to the floor as Castiel catches his breath, and he glances at it, heart pounding again. He doesn’t hesitate. Dean had been clear in his instructions, had he not? He’s to open the present, and then text Dean right away, as soon as he got home. Also, wasn’t there something about a note?

Castiel drops to his knees, hand plunging into the depths of his bag until his fingers brush the crinkly paper. He pulls is out, teeth worrying his lip and stands, taking it to the bed. He sets it down there, on the covers, eyes trained on the package as if it might run away if he averts his gaze. He thinks for a second, then toes off his shoes, gets out his phone, ready to text Dean, and hops up on the bed, legs crossed.

Okay, he thinks, practically squeaking with excitement, here goes. He starts off unwrapping slowly, trying to prolong the moment, not wanting to rip the paper and spoil the surprise. But after a few moments of trying in vain to untack the sellotape Dean had liberally used to stick down all flaps, Cas makes a noise of frustration, his fingers becoming claws.

He rips the paper off, finding a plain white cardboard box in his hands. It’s heavy, and there’s something that rattles inside if he moves it.

He wastes no time, clawing at this too, drawing out the thing inside, and immediately dropping it to the bed, cheeks burning.

Okay, Cas thinks, staring at the sky blue object lying on his covers. So his hunch about Dean’s presents being of a sexual nature had pretty much been spot on. Castiel reaches out, fingers stroking along the length of the object, tracing over every bump. He gulps. Picking the object up, he spins it in his fingers, noting the button on the base, the ridges along the shaft. It looks very… advanced.

Tentatively, feeling the goosebumps ripple over his skin, Castiel pushes the button, and almost immediately the thing comes to life in his hand. It startles him, makes him jump, and he grasps it tighter as it begins to tremble, sparks flying through the nerve endings of his palm as the thing vibrates. Okay then, he thinks, gulping loudly, so he’s figured out what it is at least. He clicks the button again, trying to shut the thing off, to gather himself before he even thinks about what he’s going to do with it-

But the thing simply seems to increase in ferocity, the vibrations growing stronger, actually making Cas’s hand shake with the movements. His eyes widen, and he clicks it again, not sure of how to proceed – but there appears to be a third setting, and this one is inconceivably fierce in power. Castiel’s stomach twists at the very _notion_ of having this thing against any slightly more sensitive spot… he actually has to forcefully shut his brain down from thinking of it, lest this all be over before it’s even begun.

Heart hammering, Castiel holds the button down in desperation, and mercifully, after a few seconds, this seems to work. The thing stops abruptly, becoming still and lifeless once again. Castiel stares at it in awe.

What about the note?, his brain reminds him and he’s kind of glad to have something to distract him, because honestly he’s a little nervous of this thing. He places it down carefully, as if it might spring to life without warning, and picks up the box again, peering inside.

Sure enough, there’s a folded slip of paper in there, and Castiel fishes it out, opening it up, the familiar scrawl of Dean’s handwriting soothing him at once, making him smile, his heart beginning to pump steadily.

_Hey Gorgeous,_

_Here’s your present, I hope_  
_you like it. I’ve got some_  
_important instructions for  
_ _you, so read carefully._

_Okay, if everything goes to_  
_plan, I should be out of practice_  
_by 4:30. I’m gonna come straight_  
_over, and I want to see how  
_ _much you like your present._

 

_So here’s what you’re gonna_ _do:_

  1. _Read this all the way through,_  
then text me the word   
'Funkytown' to show me you   
are okay with everything I've  
said.
  2. _Take a shower, relax, clean_  
yourself up and dry your   
hair.
  3. _Take a couple of shots of that_  
tequila I gave you if you think  
you need it.
  4. _Go to Becky's room, tell her_  
you're not feeling so good and  
give her your key - tell her I'm   
coming over to look after you.  
I'll pick up the key from her.
  5. _Go in your room, lock your door  
and take off all your clothes._
  6. _Get some of that lube you like,  
stretch yourself out really well._
  7. _Play with your new toy._
  8. **_Do not let yourself come until  
I arrive._**



_That last one is really important._

_I know you’re not gonna cheat,  
Cas, cause I will find out if you do._

_I want to see you come with the_  
present I gave you, and if you come  
before I get there – I will not be  
happy. 

_I want to walk in and see you_  
playing with your toy, and that  
could be at any moment. I could be  
held up at football, it could take a  
little longer than I said – who knows?  
The point is that you will do as I say,  
and you’re not going to disobey me.

_Obviously not, right angel?_

_I look forward to seeing you later._

_Dean x_

By the time Castiel gets to the end of the note, his heart is pounding incessantly against his ribcage, and his dick is chafing against his underwear. He swallows thickly, barely able to comprehend what’s about to happen. How okay with this is he? His dick would say very, and that seems to be Cas’s general thoughts on the matter, though he must say he’s got some serious butterflies.

He glances at the clock. 15:25pm. Shit!, Cas thinks, startling himself into action, that’s just over an hour till Dean’s supposed to be here! He jumps up, off the bed, dithering, trying to figure out what to do first. Ah, yes, the list! Really, sometimes he thinks he and Dean were literally made for one another. What would he do without this sense of structure and authority Dean has to keep him calm?

Sure enough, as he grabs for the paper again, just the sight of Dean’s scrawl once again soothes him, and he breathes evenly, reading the first instruction once more.

Right, he thinks, gotta text Dean so that he knows the plan is on. He grabs his phone and then hesitates, scanning the list one last time in case there really is something he’s not okay with. No, he thinks after a moment, he trusts Dean totally with stuff like this. And he’s always got his safeword, though he highly doubts he’ll ever need that again.

He texts Dean the word ‘Funkytown’ with a few kisses, shaking his head at the strangeness of what he’s doing. That done, he tosses his phone onto his desk and moves on to the next instruction.

Right, shower time. He really needs to hurry, there are a lot of things on that list.

* * *

 

“Yeah, I’m just-” Castiel breaks off, pausing for a dramatic cough, “-feeling so gross.”

Becky’s eyes are wide and filled with sympathy. “And Dean’s coming over to take care of you? Oh my God, that is _so cute._ I’m gonna write a sick!fic about this!”

Castiel’s brow creases, but he decides just not to ask. “Yeah, so um, I’m gonna lock my door and go to sleep, d’you think you could give Dean this key when he comes?”

He holds up the key in front of Becky’s face, watching in hidden amusement as her mouth falls open. She cups her palms, awestruck as Castiel drops the key into her hands.

“Oh. My. _Gosh._ ” Becky breathes, as though she’s been handed the Holy Grail. “Of course! You can count on me, Cas! Dean will get this key no matter what- Wait! Is he gonna knock on my door?!”

Castiel blinks. “Um, I guess.”

Becky squeals in excitement. “This is so exciting. I have to go do my makeup! Bye Castiel!” Becky starts to close the door, retreating into her hole. “Oh, um, get better soon and stuff!”

Aw, Cas thinks as he waves goodbye to her craziness. That’s kind of cute. Maybe Becky, along with the rest of the world apparently, now sees Cas as someone other than the creepy staring kid. Maybe she actually considers them… friends?

Castiel watches Becky’s closed door for a moment in wonder. Suddenly, to Cas’s dismay, it swings open, revealing Becky again, totally nonplussed at seeing him still standing there, much to his relief.

“Oh, I forgot!” She cries, thrusting a piece of paper torn out of a notepad towards him. Cas takes it gingerly, squinting at the crude drawing sketched onto it. “Your first fanart! Congratulations _Destiel_!”

She grins, and slams the door shut again, leaving Castiel standing, open-mouthed, clasping the paper in mid-air. Gingerly, as though it might bite him, he turns it, leaning close to examine the drawing. Up close, he can make out two figures – himself and Dean he supposes, except that in the drawing, Castiel is an Angel, complete with great, dark and powerful-looking wings, both of which encircle Dean, pulling the man towards him as they kiss.

It’s an interesting interpretation, Castiel thinks, eyebrow raised, and he stares at it for a while longer, impressed at Becky’s drawing skills, particularly in regards to the shading of Dean’s beautiful features. Then, he shakes himself. He has to get a move on, it must not be long until Dean is supposed to arrive by now. He’s only just completed number four on the list, he’s got move quickly.

He heads back into his room, as instructed, locks the door and turns to his bed, stomach twisting. Okay, next thing is to divest himself of clothing, that should be fairly easy, right?

He nods to himself, placing Becky’s ‘fanart’ down on his desk and stripping off his t-shirt, throwing it onto his desk chair before beginning to work at his jeans. He hadn’t bothered putting underwear back on after the shower, so that’s dealt with, and after sock removal, Castiel stands completely naked.

He glances down at himself nervously, the same doubts he always gets when he looks at his body attacking him from all sides. Is he too scrawny? Too lanky? Does he have the right amount of hair? It’s not that he isn’t toned, but then again he doesn’t exactly have Dean-style abs either.

But he pushes the negative thoughts as far away as possible, reminding himself of the fast-ticking clock. Dean loves him just as he is, he shouldn’t have thoughts like this anymore.

Steadily, he takes a breath and switches off the overhead light. His mood light is on, glowing in the darkness, illuminating the room with different colours. Castiel walks slowly to his bed, depositing everything that isn’t the gift Dean gave him onto the floor, and then climbing on.

Okay, Cas thinks, first thing’s first – the lube. He reaches for it, up by the head of his bed, in his bedside drawer. He really wishes Dean were here right now, because that always makes this part much more enjoyable, but he satisfies himself in the knowledge that Dean _will_ be here, he just needs to prepare.

So, laying back on the bed, he conjures up every image of Dean he can, and closes his eyes, letting the memories flood through him – Dean’s slow, sinful smirk; the way he’d grabbed Castiel earlier in the hallway, fierce and powerful, kissing him for all he was worth. Castiel feels the arousal building within him quickly, and keeps the thoughts coming, of every tryst they’ve had thus far; of the look in Dean’s eyes when Castiel catches his gaze in the middle of things; of his large, sure hands; of his rough, granite voice ordering Castiel to do as he says.

Castiel barely even notices himself pouring the lubricant onto his fingers, coating them liberally- though he does gasp as those same fingers move of their own accord, slipping between his thighs, reaching behind himself to the familiar puckered hole.

He gasps again, shuddering a little, but with Dean’s imaginary hands upon him, his invisible weight on top of Castiel, he perseveres, pressing a finger inside, inching in towards the knuckle. The familiar tingling sensations of his favourite lubricant start up, setting Castiel's muscles alight, making him twitch and jerk slightly against the feeling. He feels the blood pooling in his groin, hardening his already glistening shaft. 

“Mm.” He can’t stop the sound escaping, and adjusts his position on the bed slightly, trying to make it easier for himself.

His eyes flutter as the finger pushes in deeper, a feeling all at once so familiar yet still peculiar to him, particularly when it’s his own digit rather than Dean’s.

He’ll be here soon, Castiel tells himself, and imagines Dean’s voice urging him on, ordering him to keep going, and that means a second finger.

He does it slowly, easing the second inside bit-by-bit, wincing a little at the burn, and then shivering again as the spark of pain dissolves into softly shivering pleasure, as it always does. He has two fingers up to the knuckle now, but all his lust clouding mind can think is that he wants deeper, further, more. What he really wants of course is _Dean,_ but he chastises himself for thinking it, because that can all come later, right now this is what Dean has asked of him.

Castiel loses the battle briefly against his own willpower, and before he can stop himself, his other hand, which currently rests on his thigh, moves forwards to grasp hold of his cock.

“Oh!” Cas cries out softly, his own fingers dancing teasingly up the length of his erection, tantalisingly delicate because he absolutely, under no circumstances can come before Dean arrives.

In fact, Cas thinks, removing his left hand entirely, he shouldn’t even be doing that. He should focus on what Dean asked of him, which is to stretch himself, nothing more just yet.

He concentrates his attention again on his right hand, two fingers still inserted within him, moving slowly in and out. He begins to scissor them gently, squirming as he does it because the sensitivity is really starting to get to him. He’s starting to work up a sweat now, his forehead beading, and yeah, okay it’s getting more difficult to bat away thoughts of making himself come. He wants to, wants it quite badly if he lets himself think about it, but he ignores the thoughts, instead choosing to add a third finger to the mix.

Jesus, he thinks as he moves his hand into the correct position, he hasn’t even gotten onto the main part Dean asked him to do yet – playing with the new toy. This is already bordering on too much to bear, how is he going to be able to handle that?

Three fingers inside feels incredible of course, and Cas finds himself bucking forwards to meet them, despite being in control of them. He bites his lip, neck growing damp, scissoring all three fingers, unable to stop little whimpers escaping his lips.

God, Cas thinks, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling, though he doesn’t stop for a second. Much more of this and it’s practically a form of torture. When is Dean going to arrive?!

Castiel glances over at his clock, peering at it through the colour-changing gloom. 16:15pm.

He swallows, stomach flipping over again, okay he needs to get a serious move on. Carefully, Castiel removes his fingers, groaning as they brush over the raw, sensitive edges of his entrance. His cock is weeping, pearls of precome pooling at the head, spilling over the edges – his balls are wet with it, and Castiel just groans again, in frustration this time, at the physical evidence of how worked up he already is.

No time, he scolds himself, and reaches forwards near-blindly, sitting up to grasp in the darkness. At last his fingers brush the smooth silicone, bumping over the prominent ridges, making him tremble.

He scoops it up, holding it loosely in one hand, bringing it closer to his face. His finger skims over the button on the base, itching to push it again, but he tells himself to wait. His whole body seems to be on high alert, he’d bet that if anyone touched him now the sensitivity would be practically unbearable, but regardless, Castiel kneels up, spreading his knees apart, trying to figure out the best position to do this.

His hand trembles nervously as he moves the object into position behind himself, lining it up with the sensitive skin surrounding his entrance. He bites his lip, feeling the girth of the thing press against him. It’s not as big as Dean, nowhere close, but he still feels nervous – what’s this going to feel like? He has little to compare it to. God, why does he always feel so virginal and inexperienced with Dean? The boy's not even here and he's managing it for crying out loud. 

Castiel chews his lip, deliberating, but scolds himself when he realises what he's doing. He's finding excuses to delay this part, to wait for Dean. But that's not what Dean wants. He was clear about what he wants, all Castiel has to do is trust him. He nods to himself, taking a breath. This is nothing to be afraid of, or nervous of. This is going to make Dean happy. 

He glances at the clock again, realising he needs to continue on, hurry it up, and he pushes slowly, easing the object inside of him. He moans, as he always does, feeling himself start to fit around it, muscles contracting as they adjust to the intrusion. The ridges catch over the rim of his hole with every inch it edges deeper, and each time he shudders, burying his free hand in the covers in front of him, just for something to grip.

“Fuck,” he whispers quietly once he realizes the thing is all the way inside.

He clenches around it instinctively, just as he would if it were Dean filling him now. The thought pushes another involuntary moan out of him – how long until that can be a reality? Carefully, he begins to move the object, testing it out, whimpers escaping from his lips as the ridges pass over his sensitive flesh. He’s so stretched already, at least he'd followed that instruction well. He probably couldn’t quite get himself off just from this, he thinks, and as he’s not supposed to come yet he could just keep doing it this way – Dean hadn’t specified how to ‘play’ with the toy after all.

But Castiel’s fingers have already slipped over the button of their own accord, itching to press it, to find out what it will feel like when those vibrations start up now. He pulls the object out a little way, prolonging the inevitable, and leans forwards slightly, resting most of his weight on the hand braced on the covers in front of him. He slides the thing in, angling it this time, closing his eyes and concentrating, wanting to get the position just right.

“Oh!” He cries, louder than anything he’s uttered so far, because he found it, that perfect, delicious spot deep within him, and that’s where he wants to stay.

Angled perfectly, the tip of the toy jammed right up against his prostate, Cas presses his lips together, breathing hard. This is the moment, he thinks, and sends out a wordless prayer – who knows what the Hell he’s about to experience here?

His finger slides into position over the button once more, and this time Castiel presses down, infusing the object with life. It starts up at once, the vibrations seemingly everywhere – Castiel’s body is a tuning fork, struck against the table and set thrumming. His legs immediately collapse underneath him, and he lets out a moan so obscene that he can’t quite believe it came from his own mouth.

“Ohh, _fuck…_ ” Castiel cries, anguished, muffled by the covers now that he’s face-planted onto them, laid on his front, unable to do anything but writhe and moan. “Ohhh…”

The sensation is ridiculous, Castiel’s mind is mush, possibly for good. He can feel his own cock, trapped between his abdomen and the duvet, dribbling precome into his bedclothes, and he pushes his hips forwards, _anything_ to get some friction, some relief.

His muscles clench around the thing still inside of him, his fingers still clasped around the end, pushing it against his prostate, making him cry out.

Castiel is vaguely aware of a few, seemingly transient things – firstly that he is for some reason forbidden to orgasm just yet, and that he must stop himself. He blearily tries to sit up, forces himself with every ounce of his power to stop humping the bed, eventually rolling around and managing to get things so that he’s laid on his back, legs spread apart, fingers still moving the toy in and out of himself, seemingly of their own volition.

The second thing he is aware of is a distant noise in the background, something from far away, and which seems to disappear completely as soon as Castiel’s lube-slippery fingers accidentally slide over the button of the vibrator once more, increasing its power. Though, Castiel reasons later, the noise ‘disappearing’ might be because of the extremely loud noise he makes the moment the vibrations increase. Pulsations sing through him as Castiel pumps the object into himself over and over, his dick twitching violently every time he hits that one, irresistible spot. He bucks up into the air, the moans increasing in both volume and tempo.

This is, quite probably, the best present he’s ever received.

“So, you like your present?”

Castiel almost comes on the spot, he seriously does. He grabs hold of his cock just in time, squeezing mercilessly, cutting off the eruption that was surely about to follow in record time. Dean. How had he not even noticed? He flops back onto the bed, groaning. Slowly, carefully, he starts to pull out the toy, jumping as the many ridges pass over him.

“Woah, hold up,” Dean says, his voice low and husky, the way it gets when he’s turned on, Cas thinks with another moan, “don’t stop on my account.”

Dean steps forwards then, and Castiel sees him for the first time, beautiful and serene, like a Roman Emperor, gliding into Cas’s line of sight. Castiel whines, one hand reaching for him desperately, and he vaguely wonders how long Dean has been watching for. The older boy’s eyes look dilated, his mouth is parted and his chest rises and falls heavily. It’s a magical thing to observe.

Dean ignores Castiel’s outstretched hand, instead choosing to shrug himself out of his own shirt, which – hey – is absolutely fine with Castiel. He wishes he could concentrate better, but the vibrations are still so, _so_ distracting, the toy still partway inside of him.

“Dean…” Castiel manages to say, closing his eyes periodically against the feelings erupting within him, “waiting for you…”

“Is that right?” Dean asks with a smirk, starting to unbutton his jeans with the nonchalance of an expert. “Been keepin’ busy while you wait, angel?”

Dean steps out of his jeans, immediately climbing up onto the bed, settling himself between Castiel’s parted legs, eyes trained on the show. He licks his lips.

“Y-yes,” Castiel responds, and then shudders as his hand moves, apparently less patient than Castiel’s brain, deciding to push the object back inside.

Dean watches as Castiel threads the object into his hole, breath hitching as the younger boy writhes against the sensations, his dick pouring out viscous, syrupy liquid.

It’s without warning that Dean leans in, his mouth suddenly at hip level, his gorgeous, pink tongue sweeping up the clear droplets than run down Cas’s cock, sucking them greedily into his mouth. Dean’s hands come to rest on Cas’s hips, fingers starting to dig into the skin, and Castiel just moans; he’s vaguely aware that most of the time it’s Dean’s name.

Dean presses a wet kiss to the head of Cas’s dick, and looks up, meeting his eye. “Such a good li’l angel,” he murmurs appreciatively, his mouth closing around Cas’s cock for a moment – the feel of Dean’s mouth, along with everything else, it’s bordering on too much, and Cas can feel himself beginning to lose control, “not gonna come until I say, are you, Cas?”

Castiel cries out with frustration. How can Dean say that to him considering their position? This is cruelty, surely. Dean envelops Cas in his warm, wet mouth again though, and Cas finds he doesn’t care. He’ll try his best, he’ll try anything to make Dean happy as long as he can keep the sensation of Dean’s mouth on him just like that.

Dean pulls off, gazing up at him, and Cas kind of wants to cry. “So fuckin’ hot, aren’t you baby?” Dean asks, and Cas has to assume it’s rhetorical. He concentrates on moving the object in and out of himself still, slowly this time, focusing hard on not coming. Dean’s eyes flick down to the movement, watching in awe for a while. “Cas… can I…?”

Cas blinks, taking a few moments to process what he means. Then he understands.

Well, fuck everything. There’s just no way is there? Dean wants to make this impossible, surely, because how the Hell could Cas even think about Dean pumping this vibrator into him – with his mouth rich and filthy as ever, his body ripped and gleaming as always, his goddamn face just boner-fodder regardless – and _not_ coming so hard he won’t be able to move for days? It’s just not feasible.

He nods anyway, because despite all of that, he’s helpless to resist. But Dean should be well aware that he’s very much going to fail the ‘not-coming-until-I-say’ task. Dean grins, taking the reins gingerly, making no sudden movements bless him. He actually believes Cas will make it through this.

He starts off slow, working the vibrator into Cas with precision rather than force, his brow creased in concentration. It wouldn’t matter regardless – no matter how Dean wields that thing, it’s going to have Cas coming in a matter of moments. He moans, long and loud, the feeling of Dean’s fingers as they dance around Cas’s entrance almost equally as intoxicating as the toy itself. Cas doesn’t allow himself to gaze at Dean’s form, it would be over instantly if he did.

To his dismay, Dean apparently decides things aren’t quite intense enough, and before Cas can even think to warn him, Dean pushes the button, and everything suddenly bursts into technicolour. Castiel’s orgasm tears through him mercilessly, ignoring no part of his body, waves of thick, seething bliss extending to every fingertip, across every bundle of nerves, firing them into a frenzy.

Castiel screams and bucks, his hands grasping at air, and then somehow at warm, familiar skin, as his cock pumps his release furiously, soaking him, leaving him trembling. He whimpers and writhes as the dregs of his orgasm eventually ebb away, and he becomes aware of Dean, moving fast, seemingly intent on something.

“Cas, I’ve gotta, fuck I can’t- that was… holy fuck, man.” Dean is babbling nonsensities, and Cas feels Dean’s arms on him, moving him, his hands gripping at Cas’s hips again.

Cas looks down at him blearily, seeing that he is naked now, completely, and he groans wantonly, because mind-blowing orgasm or not, this is still Dean naked. Dean’s hands are covered in lube, and they slather his cock, their movements mesmerizing. It’s mere seconds though, before Dean moves again, shuffling forwards and lifting Cas by his thighs.

Cas realizes what’s happening at the last moment, as Dean lines his cock up with Cas’s entrance, sending Cas’s heart into a spasm. He notices belatedly that the toy has long since been removed, probably while he was mid-scream, and that’s when Dean drives himself home, burying himself inside of Cas with a cacophony of loud swearing. Castiel moans, his hands gripping at the covers – he’s not even hard at this moment, but Dean inside him is and always will be akin to no other sensation in the world.

Dean leans over him, pushing him back onto the bed, and Cas does the only thing he can think of, wrapping his legs around Dean’s waist, squeezing tightly to pull him in. Dean starts to move then, and a tear – gathered there from the extreme sensations he was feeling no doubt – slips down Cas’s cheek.

“Oh, _Dean,_ ” Cas cries, thighs locking tighter as Dean pumps into him.

* * *

 

“Cas,” Dean says, almost in reply, and he doesn’t stop for a second, if anything gaining momentum as the unbelievable images of Cas coming just moments before replay vividly through his brain - he couldn't get inside the guy fast enough, “that was so, so fuckin’ hot angel,” Dean breathes, pressing himself against Cas because somehow the kid is too far away, “you like your present, huh?”

His words come out in staccato as his hips pick up speed, pushing himself into Cas as far as he can, loving every fucking sound the guy moans from beneath him. It vaguely occurs to him that he’s acting a bit… possessive right now, and he wonders at his own actions, then huffs a laugh at himself. Is he jealous of the toy he bought Cas? Jealous that the toy made Cas come and not him? He thinks back, and concludes that yep, that makes perfect sense given the ‘no coming before I arrive’ clause in the note he gave Cas.

Cas is babbling underneath him now, saying things like ‘fuck, yes, I love it, don’t stop’ and Dean eats it up, fucking into him like his life depends on it, shivers running down his spine when he feels Cas start to get hard again. Dean decides to feed his own weird sexual needs this time, because if he’s jealous of a toy, he needs to sort that out pronto – it’s not exactly healthy behavior. He smirks to himself, but doesn’t let Cas see.

“You like your toy better than this?” Dean asks, forcing himself to slow down a little, and Cas’s eyes fly open, shocked. Perfect reaction. “Better than me, huh? Told you not to come til’ I said, Cas.”

Dean, with an extraordinary amount of willpower that one only gets from practice at this kind of thing (though it’s always been harder with Cas) stops all movement then, raising his eyebrows at Cas teasingly.

“What use am I now, huh? Now that you’ve got this, you can just whip it out whenever you get antsy.” Dean continues, picking up the toy, and then tossing it aside. “No need for me.”

Dean revels in Cas’s open-mouthed, disbelieving expression for a few seconds, then starts to ever so slowly edge backwards, even pulling out of Cas a little way.

“No!” Cas cries, gasping, his hands shooting out to clutch at Dean, to hold him in place. “No, Dean I swear – fuck, I’m sorry I came too soon, I just… I couldn’t help it, but it was only because it was _you_ doing it I-”

Dean shushes him gently, pushing him back down against the covers. “Shh, sweetheart,” Dean pulls out of him softly, and Cas whimpers in protest, trying to get back towards him, “I can just leave you here with your new present, yeah? You’re not gonna be interested in me fuckin' you now, surely.”

Cas whines in protest, trying and failing to struggle back to Dean against his grip. “Dean, no please, I want you so much,” Cas insists, and Dean smiles internally, feeling enough sympathy to loosen his grip a little. Plus the guy looks freaking delicious when he's begging like that. Cas pushes past his hold, clambering forwards and wrapping an eager hand around his dick – Dean has to say, he didn’t exactly see that one coming.

“Nothing could ever substitute for you,” Cas purrs, leaning forwards to kiss Dean furiously, his lips bitten and sweet, divine. Dean can’t resist, he kisses back eagerly, moaning against Cas’s mouth as the perfect angel’s hand moves over his cock.

Before Dean even registers what’s happening, Cas is moving forward, straddling his lap, and then, so quickly it’s like being wrapped in a warm embrace, he is inside Cas again, the kid moving up and down, rolling his hips sinfully. His arms wrap themselves around Dean’s shoulders, his face buries itself in Dean’s neck.

Dean moans, doing all he can to help with the pace, rocking up into Castiel, whispering things into his ear that make him squirm. Cas falls apart when Dean talks dirty, it’s one of the things he loves about the angel. He likes Dean telling him what he wants to do, what he’s planning to do, how Cas looks, feels, everything. The noises he makes at the sound of Dean’s voice speaking that filth are worth every second of mild embarrassment he might rarely feel post-coital.

“You gonna come for me now, angel, yeah?” Dean whispers, and like clockwork Cas’s hips stutter in their movements, so Dean continues at a steady pace, leaning Cas back a way so that he can regain some control. “I want you to come for me again Cas, and for me this time not some fuckin’ toy.”

Cas whimpers, nodding fervently, eyes firmly closed. Dean smiles to himself – he’s getting close.

“I’m pretty close Cas,” Dean says, his voice low, “but I want you to go first, cause then I’m gonna pull out and I’m gonna come all over your pretty little chest, angel, okay?”

Cas’s eyes fly open, and he moans, breaths stuttering as Dean’s fingers dance across his nipples, demonstrating his point. He nods, biting his lip in anticipation, words apparently escaping him for now, but it’s affirmation enough for Dean. He speeds up his movements, ploughing into Cas with as much strength as he can muster, then reaching with one hand to jerk Cas in time. The angel comes in under ten seconds, his release a beautiful arc of proof that he fucking _loves_ this, and it’s enough to have Dean teetering on the edge, so he pulls out, fast.

He lets go of Cas’s waist, letting him fall back to the bed, and meeting his eyes. Dean pumps his cock just three more times, the utterly debauched look in Cas’s eyes all it takes, and then he’s spilling his seed, jets of it shooting out of him, splattering across Cas’s chest in a pretty obscene display, even for him. Dean barely notices it though, he’s too lost in the high, sinking to his haunches as he moans Cas name, dragging the word out so that it’s practically a howl.

His body seizes up, every nerve on fire, and blindly he feels hands grasp at his wrists, pulling him forwards until he’s sprawled across a warm, fairly damp body.

He opens his eyes slowly, staring straight into whirlpools of blue. He grins. “Hi.”

* * *

Castiel smiles back at him, dreamily, perhaps a little dazed. “Hi.”

“Mmm, I’m gonna start gettin’ you more presents.” Dean muses, trailing a hand over Cas’s collarbone.

“I’m not sure that’s such a great plan.”

Dean furrows his brow. “How come?”

“Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but you seemed to… turn against this one.” Castiel replies, raising his eyebrows with a smile.

Dean grins, settling his head against Cas’s shoulder. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

Castiel huffs a laugh, but reaches up to play idly with Dean’s hair nonetheless. “Well, I’m not gonna say no to presents.”

Castiel feels Dean smile. “And definitely not to the ones I give you.” Cas’s stomach flips for a moment, thinking about this. To Castiel’s amusement, Dean wriggles in a movement that could only be described as snuggling in closer, wrapping himself more firmly around the younger boy. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Dean, it’s 5:30.”

“Does that mean no?”

“That means what the Hell are we gonna do ‘til bedtime?”

Dean raises himself up slightly in order to give Castiel the most obnoxious, flirtatious eyebrow-raise he’s ever seen.

Castiel laughs at him, rolling his eyes. “Seriously? We just had very energetic and somewhat experimental sex, how can you be thinking about round two already-”

“Hey, I was thinkin’ a movie, Cas.” Dean interrupts. “Whatever your filthy mind conjures up is your own business.” Cas gives him a look that he normally reserves for his brother. “Though I did see an interesting drawing over there where you’re dressed as an angel again. Didn’t know you drew, and hey- if that’s some fantasy you wanna explore, then I guess we’ll just have to spend all evening trying to satisfy your urges.”

Castiel splutters. “Okay, first off _Becky_ drew that-”

He’s silenced by Dean’s lips, pressing him back into the pillow, cutting off every thought he’d been having before they’re even fully formed. Dean breaks off a short way, staring down at him. “Shh, gorgeous,” Dean whispers, smirking, “let me satisfy your urges.”

Castiel is about to protest, but then Dean’s lips are against his again, and somehow, he doesn’t quite get the chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten several comments from people who are seemingly very concerned about Cas and Dean's academic career! Haha, I hope this chapter sets your mind a little more at ease, and rest assured, my plan was always to have them find a healthy balance of school and relationship life. Even if they do continue to screw vigorously at every available opportunity ;) 
> 
> Love you all! xxx


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